New Day Rising
by Khurdt
Summary: Frances and her young companion Clara are trying to survive in this apocalyptic world, but they haven't had a good start. With Daryl's help they enter the group and a new world is revealed to them. dark, light, versatile, serious, heavy, versatile, dorky, hungry. My first story ever, reviews & feedback considerably appreciated! :)
1. Chapter 1

Sharp twigs dug into the toughened skin of their feet. Every step appeared to be an uphill battle. The fear of encountering an undead loomed around every turn. Each tree, which once provided shade and relief from the hot Georgia sun, now served the tenacious population of undead.

Frances trudged forward at a respectable pace, especially with Clara now hoisted onto her back. They had escaped the malicious group three moons ago, stopping twice merely for water at a small creek. Granola bars were always eaten in motion.

Frances mind was occupied with various questions. _Is there enough space between us? Is Clara hungry or thirsty? Where are we headed? Am I weak? What if I have to fight off multiple undead? What's waiting behind that large tree? _The answers to these questions plagued her mind and served as just another burden she needed to fight off. She stopped short at the sudden sound of rustling leaves.

Frances slowly removed her left hand from Clara's thin wrist and felt the cool handle of her knife. She acknowledged her luck to have stumbled across it, Joe had drunkenly abandoned it while tormenting a fellow female survivor and Frances had slipped it into her belt loop in their quiet escape. Bringing her hand back to Clara, she calmly loosened the little girl's grip around her neck. She then brought her hands to provide support under the child's thighs. She hoped her hands would remain there, and she would have no reason to reach for the knife again.

* * *

Today would mark the group's sixth day on the Greene's farm. Carl was still recovering from his gunshot wound, Sophia was still missing, and T-Dog was also on the mend. Even the Greene family had lost one of their own. Daryl couldn't help but think of all the damage inflicted in the past few days.

Never one to sit around, Daryl rose early and prepared for his day. After pouring over various maps provided by Dale and Hershel, the route he had decided to follow settled along a small creek. Perhaps the girl had gone to water. Surely she would be thirsty.

Daryl threw a button down shirt over his sleeveless undershirt and headed out of his tent. The air was crisp in the morning. Dew stuck to everything, covering the earth with a shiny gleam. Squinting into the rising sun, Daryl's thoughts drifted to his big brother.

Rick's group was large. It was armed. They had multiple eyes watching at all times. It didn't make Daryl feel completely safe, but his situation seemed safer than Merle's. Sure being on your own could be easier, especially for someone as fine-tuned to nature and the elements as Daryl, but with only one hand and an army of walkers Daryl figured the chances of Merle's survival were slightly negated.

Shuffling in the grass brought Daryl's mind to the present. Immediately he turned, fingers wrapped tightly around his buck knife.

"Whoa, good morning," spoke Rick. "Just wanted to double check todays plans and make sure you were all set to head out."

Officer Rick Grimes, the family man with a heart of southern gold. Daryl overlooked the man. His stubble was quickly forming a dark black beard tinged with grey. His cold wet eyes washed into the pale spread of his face. The man looked broken. His son was broken in just as many pieces as his marriage. The whole damn group was broken. It sure showed on that long face.

"Headed out early, gotta get that girl back here. Thinkin' of checking that house again." Daryl replied quickly.

"Yeah, Carl's sure missing her. She's the only one his age." Rick's words died off at the end of the sentence. Rick turned to the Greene house, and then scanned over the make-shift camp. "We're all missing her…"

Daryl nodded slightly. "Headed out to the creek again. Gonna follow it down stream, it runs parallel to the highway. At a point it bares north-west, which would be her left. Thinking she may have gone that way. You said something about keeping left to her. Maybe that's the only word that stuck." Daryl reminded.

Rick remained unresponsive for a minute. Without waiting Daryl walked over to Merle's bike. He removed a pistol and a case of extra rounds from a small compartment, tucking them into his deep pants pocket. He turned back in time to meet Rick's sorry eyes. Daryl scoffed and headed over to his crossbow, swiftly heaving it over his shoulder and checking his shoe laces and buck knife.

"Be safe Daryl," Rick suddenly spoke. "And look hard for her. I owe it to Carol."

"Christ, she's gonna be fine. I'm gonna find her by the creek. She'll be scared, hungry, and tired as hell and when we get back she won't look no worse than you. Now go handle the group. Check the perimeter. I got this on my own."

With that the bow hunter stalked off into the thick woods, leaving behind all the broken.

* * *

Frances couldn't tell if the ground was wet, or if that wetness between her toes was blood from her mangled feet. She furrowed her brow, angry she had ever decided to join the men's group. She was frustrated at herself for being so trusting. She could never forgive herself for subjecting Clara to extra horrors. Her angry thoughts dispelled at the sound of running water. The distinct sound of shallow water bubbling forcefully over rocks and fallen tree limbs brought a small smile to her face. It was coming from her right. Her pace halted for a second. The thought of ice old water, clear and sparkling and gifting relief to her pained and exhausted organs was almost too much to handle.

"We got a new direction, chickie. Tell me, are you thirsty?"

Clara's only response was simply to dig her chin deeper into the cavity of her neck.

"We'll take another quick break," Frances spoke softly. "Do you think you can walk on your own until the next one?"

The small girl's chin chiseled again, this time up and down into the air, signaling her approval.

"Thank you sweetie," Frances relented. "You are so strong. We have just a bit further until we can really rest. We just need to make certain we are safe this time."

Frances hoped the six year old would buy her pathetic façade of potential safety. The twenty-eight year old knew neither would ever be truly safe again, not with the undead. Not with the men still out there.

Suddenly Clara began to cry. Stooping down to the child's level, Frances began to stroke her dirty long hair.

"C'mon chickie, it will be alright. We have water now and some food left. We will find some shelter and I promise you will get a good night's sleep."

"I'm thinking about Mommy," Clara whimpered.

"She's at peace Clara," Frances squeezed her tight to her chest. "I promise you things will get better."

"I'm tired," Clara whined. "Can I sleep soon?"

Frances bit her lip. She honestly didn't know. _Were they far enough away? Is the group currently hunting them down? Should they sleep on the ground, here at the creek?_

The fright in Clara's eyes forced a difficult answer. "Yes," Frances' head hung low, suddenly heavy with much exhaustion. "You can sleep right here in my lap. I just need to see you drink a lot of water first."

Soon the two collapsed close together at the bed of the creek. Frances examined her feet, dipping them slowly in the rushing cold water to rinse the seemingly permanent debris marks. She also took note of their overall condition. Clara's feet had been spared much of the journey, and were therefore left intact. However, her body had become increasingly frail and light weight since this all started. Frances noticed these same affects in her own body. She needed to build muscle, for protection. She tried not to cry while slowly keeping silent watch under the dawning sun.

* * *

Daryl had been following the creek for hours. It had been mostly a straight path, veering slightly when faced with enormous old trees or boulders. He had even managed to start a healthy string of squirrels, which could be cooked later and served as dinner to the group.

Daryl calculated that he was about ten miles from the Greene farm, and five from the abandoned house he believed Sophia had been hiding in a day earlier. He had not re-examined the house and was busy contemplating the worth of backtracking to check that off this day's new search.

Tugging gently at the string of squirrel, Daryl wondered why he hadn't seen much fauna during this past mile. Natural worry settled in. Perhaps walkers were in the area, and the lack of potential dinner served as a warning. But then Daryl heard something, the shriek of a young girl. Without hesitation, Daryl took off, crossbow leading the way toward the sickening sound.

Breaking around a curve in the river Daryl found himself in an interesting situation. The back of one individual and the terrified faces of two others greeted him. He stopped short, ducking behind overgrow flora. His brain worked overtime to analyze the situation.

The crying appeared to be from a kid who was standing in the creek. She was shorter and much thinner than Sophia and Carl. Her long blond hair was filthy. The same could be said about her shirt and shorts. The other female was in a worse position. She appeared to be trapped under a man. Daryl cocked his head to see if it was a walker or living person.

"No! Stop," screamed the woman. "Get off of me! Leave us alone!"

Although Daryl could only see the male's back, his words confirmed his evil actions.

"You thought you were walking on easy street," sneered the man. "You honestly thought no one noticed you and that brat sneak off? After we fed you and protected you against those lame brains? If you wanna leave, sure I'll leave you here. But I'm gonna teach you how to say thank you first." The man moved over her thin body. More screams erupted from the helpless woman.

Daryl worried for her, he also worried that walkers would hear the noise and be headed their way now. He had a group to feed, and girl to find, and even a brother still out there. He couldn't let this sick mess threaten his life too.

Stepping forward Daryl launched a bolt directly into the ass of the man in question. The piercing arrow was quickly followed by a strong hand yanking the aggressive guy off of the struggling woman.

"What in the hell do you think you're doin'?" Daryl asked the unnerved man. "Mind explainin' this shit to me?"


	2. Chapter 2

Frances had fallen asleep. It was a reckless, but entirely uncontrollable. As Clara slept, Frances recovered memories of the past seventy-two hours. By the grace of some empathetic higher being, she had traveled over miles. She persisted through long hot days and longer muggy nights, ignoring the nagging cry of her broken body. She had successfully stabbed three undead with swift quiet motions, and was able to continue forth with sound fearlessness. They were keeping pace with this new world.

But that pace couldn't last. Mere minutes after Clara laid her dirty head into her stained and filthy lap; Frances too succumb to exhaustion.

Her body must have been in a profound state of unconscious; she never felt Clara stir. The child had woken in a fit of thirst and crawled to the creek for another gulp of cool water. Frances was left hunched over herself, ignorant to the imposing danger. Clara examined their surroundings while she drank. With no visible threat she decided to let Frances sleep. Clara entertained herself by throwing small rocks into the creek. The dark smooth rocks made quirky plopping noises as they broke the water. She wondered if there were any fish. She had grown weary of the granola bars.

Suddenly Frances screamed. Clara turned to face the scream and was immediately caught off guard by what she saw. It was Justin. He had Frances pinned to the dirt and was yelling in her face. Frances was yelling back at him.

"No! Stop," screamed the woman. "Get off of me! Leave us alone!"

Clara started to cry. She had thought they were safe from the men. Justin's quick glance toward Clara immediately set off more tears. His crooked grin and tormenting eyes were something Frances had managed to keep at bay while they were still part of the group. Heavy hot tears etched a familiar path down her cheeks.

"You thought you were walking on easy street," sneered the man. "You honestly thought no one noticed you and that brat sneak off? After we fed you and protected you against those lame brains? If you wanna leave, sure I'll leave you here. But I'm going to teach you and that kid how to say thank you first."

Frances screamed louder as Justin moved over her body, completely covering her thin frame.

Suddenly, Justin stopped. He shrieked in pain and immediately reached for his back side. His grip upon Frances loosened and she fought hard to push herself out from under him.

Clara saw him emerge from the woods. He was tall, muscular, and heavily armed. He even had a weapon Clara had never seen before, and it was aimed at Justin. Anger coated his tan face. Within four strides this mysterious man reached the tangled pair. With one powerful tug he ripped Justin off of Frances.

"What in the hell do you think you're doin'?" Daryl harshly asked the unnerved man. "Mind explainin' this shit to me?"

Justin lay on his side, one hand feeling around the object now lodged frighteningly deep into his buttocks. "What the fuck," he bit out while nursing his new wound. "Who the fuck are you?"

Daryl pointed his freshly loaded cross-bow directly at the man's forehead and set his jaw. His eyes darted between the subdued man and frantic woman who was scurrying away from the mess and toward the crying child in the creek.

"Calm her down." ordered Daryl to the woman.

She quickly reached the child and pulled her into her grasp. She also scanned the dirt for her missing knife. Her eyes caught the gleam of the blade near the unknown man's shoe. Her stare didn't go unnoticed.

"This yours?" inquired Daryl. His foot nudged the handle of the large knife. Frances nodded. "Well here," he said kicking it half way toward the water. "It ain't of much use to you lying over here with this bastard."

Leaving Clara in the water, Frances advanced forward to retrieve her only weapon. When she was back with Clara, knife surly never leaving her grasp again, the man spoke.

"What's going on here? You all stupid? Don't you know all this hollering is gonna bring walkers down on yah?" The bowhunter asked.

"Listen, listen to me," Justin offered. "This lady here left our group. She took one of our weapons too. All that after we fed her and kept her safe! I was just asking her to come back. Trying to reason with a woman, you know!"

"Didn't much sound like that," Daryl leaned forward. "Why'd she leave if you were doing such a fine job of keeping her fed and safe?"

Knowing he couldn't argue with the intimidating stranger Justin began to open up.

"Listen man, I was just looking for a last good time. I would have let her go after that, gone back to our camp alone. Truth fact, I mean it! It would have been a win-win, could have had me some fun and came back with two less mouths to feed."

Daryl's jaw tightened and his eyes briefly settled on the girls now standing in the stream.

"You can have one, take your pick. I won't say nothing to nobody 'bout it. You realize we're living in a man's world now. All ladies are only good for one thing, kids worth just as much."

Daryl saw the women flinch from the corner of his eye.

"Go ahead, take your pick. We'll call this even and we can go back to my guys and have a beer. We got beer that's ice-cold from sinking it in the stream! Probably been a long time since you had a nice cold one, maybe just as long since your last woman."

Daryl's trigger finger tingled.

"You got a thing for little girls? Like I said, either one. That arrow you sure gave me has me thinking of just getting back to the boys. We'll just make sure to leave them here."

Frances rose abruptly, catching Daryl off guard.

"You sick bastard! I'm going to kill you!" She advanced toward Justin but stopped when Daryl raised his palm to her.

"Calm down woman. Take your girl and start walking up the creek. Tell her to close her eyes and cover her ears." Daryl instructed. "I'll catch up to you both in ten minutes. Just stay near the creek."

Frances weighed her options. Justin lay in the dirt, the look of pain carved into his ugly face. She would take Clara and run. Frances nodded to the man and grabbed her backpack, ready to make distance. After haphazardly grabbing her things she returned to Clara, scooped her up and took off. She feared this new guy. He was well armed and quick, tense and intelligent. Everything about him intimidated her.

No more than five minutes later she heard a single gunshot. Fear squeezed her heart and overtook her mind.

* * *

As soon as the two females had ventured out of sight Daryl slugged the man in the eye.

"Tell me who you are, where you come from, and how you know that lady. Now." His looming crossbow capped off his demands.

"Who the fuck you think you are, buddy?" Justin spat.

This time Daryl connected the tough toe of this hiking boots to the soft belly at his feet.

"Okay, Okay! Listen, who I am isn't important, but my group is. We got about twelve guys all survivors like you and me. We're tough men, with even tougher ammo. We try to bunker down in towns, but most everything's infested with those lame brains. We been doing raids for food. That's usually how we get our women too. We got three now, but it ain't no use. Each is basically called for. Frances was different, giving us trouble from day one. That's why I came out for her alone; the guys didn't think her scrawny ass was worth the risk." Justin rubbed his butt and muttered curses. "Wouldn't never leave that kid alone neither. It ain't even hers for Christsake!"

Daryl pondered this new information. "How much heat you all packing? And where's your weapons? And you got any plans for moving out somewhere?"

"Yeah man, join us. We could use a sharp shooter like you," Justin continued rubbing the tender area around the arrow which was still sticking into his body. "My gun was in my pocket, she must have kicked is straight out when I got on her." Justin quickly changed the subject to avoid the fact that he was both unarmed and injured. "Most guys in the group are off getting drunk or whatever. You'd be respected by them." Justin chuckled.

"I asked if you got moving plans." Daryl reminded sternly while ignoring the twisted compliment.

"Well, we came up from Atlanta, and now we were thinking DC, I'm sure the government's kept those hot shots in DC safe. We got plenty of cars, bikes and a few tents too. It's all set up about a three-day walk from the highway."

"All your guys got eyes for little girls?" Daryl asked suddenly.

Justin chuckled again before answering. He turned slightly before sharply tugging the arrow from its deeply rooted settlement. "Not all, but why do you think I've followed those two so long? I took out lame brains that helpless pair didn't even know about for a chance at that Clara." Justin smiled at the ground.

Daryl lowered his bow and put hand on his hip, his fingers grazing the handle of his pistol.

"Your group know you're out here?"

"We found out about Frances and Clara hours after they left. They probably think I'm hunting her down. It's gonna be awful fun to explain all this to them though, they'll think I was on one hell of a bender."

Daryl had acquired most of the information he needed. With that he wasted no time in doing what he had known would be necessary. The decision was something Daryl was very uncomfortable making, but he knew it had to be done.

"We don't kill the living." Rick had once informed Daryl. But this time, Rick wasn't around. And this guy was as much a monster as any walker Daryl had ever come across.

* * *

Instead of freezing at the loud shot blast, Frances pushed forward. Clara's eyes spilt silent tears onto the soaked shoulder of Frances' ripped flannel.

Who was that guy? How could she have fallen asleep? How long had Justin been stalking her? Were the others close behind?

Three minutes later Frances heard quick footsteps behind her. Without warning, she dropped Clara to her feet and spun around to face the potential danger. A walker stood mere feet away from her. Its clouded eyes fixed onto her face and it let forth a ghastly shriek as it shuffled forward.

Frances moved to take out the threat. As she raised her knife above her head, the creature dropped to the forest floor. An arrow stuck from the back of its head. Frances quickly sought out the bow hunter. She found him stepping out slowly from behind a tree.

Daryl examined the woman. She had given that guy a bit of a struggle, and she looked worse for wear. The girl behind her also appeared to need some rest and nourishment.

"That guy won't be bothering you anymore," His hand shadowed over the pistol at his hip. "You both okay?"

"Yeah we're fine," Frances' cheeks reddened slightly as she noticed how shaken her voice sounded. "Thank you."

Daryl glanced at the pair's feet. "You leave your shoes back there? I didn't notice any but I can go grab 'em if you want. I wouldn't bring your girl back there if I were you."

"No, we don't have any, actually. Group rule, it makes escape harder for us women," Her voice hardened intensely at the memory of having her shoes ripped from her feet, only to be locked in the trunk of one guy's sedan.

"That's gusty, running off like that," Daryl commented. "You headed somewhere specific?"

Daryl's interest set off red flags in Frances' mind. She could fall back into the same miserable situation, or worse. She shook her head. "Just away. The group is about three days away from us now. Need to make that larger, not too concerned about a particular direction as I am the distance."

"Away? That's your big plan?"

"Do you think I'm dumb? Haven't you heard the expression, 'The Devil you don't know is worse than the one you do?'"

Daryl cocked his head. "You calling me a Devil, a worse Devil that that?" His head jerked back toward the direction they had left Justin.

"I don't know you! You could be worse than the guys we just left. I have to be careful. I have to protect us." Her face scrunched in anger.

"Protection, huh? Got any other weapons?" Daryl followed quickly realizing he perhaps hit a soft spot when the woman's brow wrinkled.

She paused before answering. "Just this."

Daryl shrugged. "Food?"

At that inquiry, Frances felt Clara's hand knot into the bottom of her shirt.

"Not much. We have the creek for water though."

"I take it you don't have a group now either?"

"You're a smart southern boy." Frances eyed suspiciously.

Daryl scoffed. "Listen, I know you have nowhere to go. I'm not saying you can't make it work, but you know it's gonna be tough."

Frances was scared. This guy was right and she was trying her hardest not to allow her fear show.

"See," Daryl paused. "I'm just thinking of your girl. I guess what I'm sayin' is I can't just see you two off. It wouldn't be right."

Frances didn't respond.

"I'm part of a good group. You can come back with me if you want, but once you're in, you're in. There's got be trust, we can't have you defecting if you find another group. I can't bring you back if you're just going to turn around and put our men, women, and children in harm's way."

It was tough for Daryl to extend that invitation. This was a choice between life and death. Daryl felt like he was playing God. This pair wouldn't last much longer alone. He had to at least offer them a decent chance for survival. But he also had to think of the safety of the group.

Perhaps Rick would be mad, maybe even Andrea. Lori would cast a mean glare and he bet Hershel wouldn't warm up to two more free loaders. He tried not to think of what Shane would have to say. Hell, even for Daryl it meant two more mouths to feed. But just looking at them and imagining their suffering, he couldn't walk away.

Frances was struck by his offer. "You're part of a nearby group?" She inquired. "If you think I'm going to fall right into our last situation all over again, you are dead wrong. I fought my way out of there and I won't subject us to any more unnecessary pain."

"We're a good group. It's led by two cops. We got men, women, and children. We all carry weapons...and wear shoes. You won't have to deal with guys like that." Daryl pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

Clara listened to the conversation between the two adults. She was proud of Frances. She leaned to her right to get a better look at this new guy. For the first time she noticed a string of squirrels hanging around his body like a sash. Her eyes poured over his muscular build and the way his eyes squinted when they became caught in the sun. She worried he would be just like the others.

He did save us from Justin, Frances thought.

"Okay Jeremiah Johnson, you say I'll get a better weapon if I join your group?"

Daryl smirked at her comment. "If you got a proper handle on it, sure. That's one of our rules."

"Well okay, but I'd like to have your gun for the walk there."

Daryl cocked his head. This lady was pretty forward.

"Just in case I find out you're lying." Frances flashed her teeth.

"Okay, but if you shoot me in the back, you best pray I'm dead." Daryl handed her his gun, he knew it was unloaded.

* * *

¬The three began walking with Daryl in the lead. He was deathly silent as his eyes scanned all around. After thirty minutes of complete silence, Frances posed a question.

"What's your name?"

"Daryl." He replied, looking briefly over his shoulder. "Yours is Frances? And the kid Clara?"

"How did you know that?"

"That guy told me some stuff."

With that, the journey continued in its quiet fashion. Dark grey clouds filled the sky.

Periodically Daryl would stop and inspect the ground. This puzzled Frances.

"Why do you keep doing that? Are we lost?"

"Ha," Daryl laughed bitterly. "I haven't been lost since I was a kid no older than you." His finger pointed toward Clara.

"Well what have you been looking at? Are there undead around?"

"There's walkers everywhere, it's the Goddamn apocalypse. I'm tracking."

"Walkers?" Frances tried the new term.

"It's what our group calls them; I think Glenn started it."

"Are you looking for more squirrels?"

"No, well yeah, but not now. That ain't a priority now."

"Well what is?"

Daryl ducked the real reason for his constant tracking. "Getting back before I can't see for shit."


	3. Chapter 3

After a few hours walking Daryl realized the house he had visited earlier in the week was not far from their path. Someone small had definitely been held up in there trying to survive. He felt a strong urge to revisit and reinvestigate. He hated the idea of coming back to the group with two people and not Sophia. His direction shifted slightly toward the new trail. He hoped it wouldn't be questioned.

Before long they reached the abandoned house.

"This is it? I pictured it to be a bit more, lively…" Frances spoke, hand on Daryl's loaned gun.

"That's cause it ain't. I'm just checking something, getting more supplies, maybe even finding you a pair of shoes."

Frances blushed at the last comment. She had thought he had lied, and that there was no group.

"Stay behind me," He ordered. "Don't shoot unless you need to. My bow is quieter. Just focus on not getting bit."

Together they entered the house. Daryl had them stay in the kitchen behind a closed door as he inspected the rest of the house.

Daryl returned unscathed. "There are two bedrooms upstairs. You can go through them for some shoes, clothes, anything really."

Frances glanced out the window. It was getting dark and stormy. It had been a long day.

"The coast is clear?" Daryl nodded and together they walked up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Did you check the closets?"

Again Daryl nodded. "Of course I did, you think I wanna get bit?"

Frances rummaged through the drawers. After finding many nice shirts and even new jeans she turned to Daryl.

"I'm gonna change."

Immediately Daryl became uncomfortable. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

_Her clothes really were in bad shape_, Daryl thought. _She really must have gone through a bad time to be wearing that shredded mess_.

Clara hopped up on the bed and closed her eyes. She was lightly snoring before Frances could even unbutton her pants. Walking around the room in only her bra and underwear, Frances felt disgusting. She was covered in a thick layer of dirt. Her reflection in the vanity mirror revealed dark circles around her eyes, oily skin, and greasy hair. She had zits for the first time since high school. Turning slowly in the mirror revealed bruises in multiple stages of healing. Her hip bones poked roughly at the lightly tanned skin of her hips and a few ribs were visible. She rubbed her lean muscle, happy about the gained strength. She pained for the chance to shower.

At that thought Frances quickly ran to the bedroom closet. She tugged on a bathrobe and crept back to the door. She opened it into the back of a seemingly irritated bow hunter.

"Do you think I could rinse real quick?"

If Daryl had been red before, he certainly was now. Hours earlier this lady didn't trust him, and now she was standing in front of him clad in only a bathrobe.

"We got showers at the farm. You can hose down there."

"How far away is the farm? It's getting dark and the sky looks stormy."

"About five more miles, less than two hours if we walk at a good pace and avoid walkers."

"Alright," Frances ceded. "Let me change."

"Then grab Clara, there's a kid's room down the hall. It's a boy's room but good clothes are good clothes, can't argue with that."

"Okay, just let me wake her up."

"She's asleep?" Daryl asked. "I've been out here no more than five minutes."

"Well, we've literally been walking non-stop. She's only six. Most kids her age still need naps."

"Daryl peered over Frances' shoulder. Sure enough Clara was passed out on the fluffy bed.

"It's her first time sleeping in a real bed since this all started too. I think I'll let her be for a bit and go pick out her stuff for her. Do you think you can see if there's any food downstairs? I'm starving. I'll eat anything, and we can take it to go."

Frances walked down the hall to the child's bedroom while Daryl took the stairs to the kitchen. He rummaged through the near empty cabinets. There were cans of beans, soup, sardines, and a jar of peanut butter left. Saltine crackers were discovered above the fridge.

A quick flashes of lightning aided Daryl in his search for food. He wasn't too worried if he couldn't find anything, he could always gut a squirrel if need be. They would probably rot anyways if he didn't field dress them soon.

"Frannie?" A small voice called.

Daryl turned quickly dropping a can of soup in the process. The loud noise startled a sleepy Clara.

"Your ma's upstairs getting you some clothes." Daryl noticed how wet and shiny the girl's eyes were.

"Look now I just told you she's upstairs! She probably got you new shoes too!" Daryl left the fallen can on the ground and reached for Clara's hand. She shied away at first but slowly placed her hand in his. It was safe to say both were rather scared of the contact. Daryl had never held a young girl's hand.

He led her upstairs and into the bedroom down the hall. She quickly ran to Frances and buried her head deep into her thigh.

"She must have woken up, came down looking for you…"

"Yeah," Frances spoke calmly. She paused for a great yawn before reaching for the new clothes acquired in her search. "Let's get you into these."

This time Daryl left without having to be asked. He waited downstairs near a window. It had begun to rain and the sky was darker than he anticipated. It would make walkers harder to hear and see. Maybe staying inside here wouldn't be such a bad idea. He just hoped the group wouldn't send anyone after him. He also hoped Sophia had found a safe shelter.

A new plan formed in his mind. He didn't like it, but there wasn't a safer option. With a great sigh, Daryl turned and headed back up the stairs.

"Can I come in?" Daryl asked.

"Sure." Frances called back.

Daryl entered the room and found Frances and Clara on the ground. Multiple shoes littered the dingy carpet.

"I'm thinking due to this storm we stay here for the night. It would give you both a chance to clean up and sleep in a bed. We can really scavenge this place for supplies. I could even start dressing these squirrels."

Frances smiled wide. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna start the food. You two can do your thing." His footsteps could be heard going back down stairs.

* * *

It didn't take Daryl long to clean and gut his catch. He was busy washing the table when a clean Frances walked in.

"Thank you so much Daryl," Her head tilted to the side. Her wet brown hair hung limply at her shoulders. "Clara is already asleep and she looks ten times more healthy and happy." Frances noticed the mess he had made. His hands were covered in blood and much of his pants too. "You can shower if you want."

"Nope, gonna stay up on watch." Daryl wiped his hands with a rag pulled from his back pocket. "Storms won't stop a walker."

"Okay." She bit down on her bottom lip. "Is that food something I can eat now?"

"Take a seat," he motioned. "You ever had squirrel before?"

"No," She laughed lightly. "But I'm beyond thankful for the opportunity to try it now."

The two sat across from each other, chewing wordlessly over the late dinner.

"I got some questions to ask you about your old group." Daryl suddenly spoke.

The shadows of the night illuminated his serious gaze. His shoulders looked tense and heavy, as if to show the physical consequences of psychological worries.

"Sure." Frances winced at the potential barrage of questions.

"Are there little girls there?"

Frances swallowed hard before nodding. Based on his reaction, Daryl clearly did not like her first answer.

Daryl's shoulders suddenly took on greater weight from worry.

"Any of them named Sophia?"

Frances thought hard before answering. Many girls had come and gone.

"No, there had been an African American girl named Sarah. A Mexican teenager named Sonia. No Sophia."

Daryl was surprised with the breath he let out. He hadn't even known he was even holding one in.

"You lose a girl?" Frances questioned.

"Yeah, she's twelve. Short, blond hair. She's kinda tall, but stick thin. Her mama's worried sick."

"Well rest assured she's not with them."

"I just hope I find her and not them."

Frances finished her squirrel.

"I'm sure she's still out there. Was that the real reason you were out there earlier?"

Daryl sat back in his chair. "Yep. Gotta bring her back to her mama. Is that what you're doing with Clara?"

"No," Frances spoke from the creeping darkness. "Her mother is dead. I've never asked about her father, and she's never either. I was just another stranger. We were all stopped on the highway back in Smurna. She and her mom were in the car beside mine. When the…walkers (Frances eyes squinted as she tried out the term) arrived, everyone ran. I saw her mom go down. I stepped in and plucked her from the chaos."

Daryl looked impressed.

"We've been inseparable ever since."

"Our group is pretty close too you'll find, a little too close for my liking. I like to stay back. I'm a boundaries type guy.

Frances yawned again. She could feel her eyes closing.

"You should get some rest. I'm waking you up at the crack of dawn. There's a little girl I need to find and sitting around here ain't gonna do a damn thing."

Frances rose from the chair. She decided not to argue and lumbered out of the room to join Clara in that big fluffy bed upstairs. She paused in the doorway and turned back one last time for the night. "Thanks again Daryl. Not just for stopping Justin from doing something awful to me and Clara, but for taking us back and feeding us and basically saving us."

"I'm not a savior. I killed a guy today." Daryl sounded suddenly bitter. "I ain't never killed a guy before, even if he sure deserved it."

Frances nodded in resigned manner.

"Maybe just don't tell anyone back at camp I did that? I'm not lying when I say there's two cops back there."

"You saved me from a horrible fate. That man was pure evil; I'm speaking from a first-hand account. If they ask they should hear the truth. For safety sake. You stopped a serial rapist."

Daryl's eyes stared hard at the floor. "I'm sorry you had to go through that." This was the first time Frances heard genuine concern in his voice.

"Goodnight Daryl." Empathy evident in her voice too.

* * *

Frances climbed the stairs with haste. Dawn would soon be rising and she knew they would be leaving early. She checked her gun and knife within reach on the nightstand, making sure Clara couldn't reach them. The last thing she needed was for her companion to get hurt. Frances wiggled her toes; her feet had been killing her since the end of the world began. She slowly ran her legs against each other. The fresh smooth feeling was comforting enough to lull her to sleep. She had made sure to tuck the new razor in her backpack after showering. She deeply inhaled the fragrance of the shampoo her and Clara had used. The flowery scent reminded her of life before all the destruction and horror. It brought slight peace and tranquility in the midst of a thunderous storm. She listened carefully to her surroundings. It felt strange sleeping indoors, the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls were muffled by the wooden walls. Perhaps if she concentrated hard enough she would hear the soft wind ghosting over tall grass.

The only noises she managed to discern were those of Daryl. The sound of his boots would wander the house, and based off of their layout, he was stationing himself at windows. If she heard them creep up the stairs, she would pull the gun. She wouldn't let what had happened with Justin happen again. Her stomach muscles tightened as she moved the gun from the nightstand to under her pillow. She had evolved into a light sleeper, which may prove to be a life-saving characteristic.

Sometime during the night Clara awoke. Her throat was dry and her bladder full. The bathroom was only down the hall. Clara smiled timidly, sure using the great outdoors for a bathroom had seemed fun and adventurous, but after weeks, she sure missed indoor plumbing. Clara wriggled under the lean arm of Frances and padded her little feet to the bathroom. She stopped at the landing of the stairs and peered down into the darkness. Was Daryl still down there? Lightning suddenly lit the hall and Clara jolted across the landing. She quietly shut the door behind her, the click of the lock aligned perfectly with a clap of thunder.

It was a bit of a struggle getting onto the high toilet, and impossible to reach the sink. She wouldn't let Frances know about not washing her hands. For a moment Clara weighed her options. She was still incredibly thirsty, but she couldn't reach this faucet. She wouldn't be able to reach the one in the kitchen either, unless she used a chair. It was very late, and they were safe in the house. Surely Daryl would be asleep in the boy's bedroom. She could sneak a drink and crawl right back into bed with Frances.

Gathering a bit of courage Clara took the stairs. Knowing the middle of the steps would likely creak, she only placed her feet on the edges. She made it half way down before a figure caught her eye. It wasn't facing her, but instead looking out the window. Another flash of lightning revealed it to be Daryl. His cross bow was leaning up against the window pane. One of his calloused hands lay relaxed at his side. The other held a glass of water. Her thirsty eyes watched the glass as it rose up and out of her sight. His head tossed back slightly as he chugged the water. Intense thirst conquered her little fear and she continued down to the kitchen. As she reached midway down the steps a harsh whisper broke the quiet.

"What're you doing?" Daryl asked.

Clara flinched. She was waiting for a slap or a hard tug on her shoulder. Instead, her eyes eased open to discover Daryl still at the window, only this time facing her.

"Does Frances know you're sneaking around?"

Clara didn't move. Instead she eyed his water. Daryl made the connection.

"What? This is what's got you shuffling around here like a geek?" His gestures made the water dance around the edges of the glass.

"Here, you can finish this," He slowly crossed the room to hand her his glass. One tiny hand stuck out while the other clung to the railing. "You got a good grip?"

Before the words had left his mouth the glass had hit the floor. It smashed quietly against the carpeted stairs. Frances withdrew her hand and placed her fingernails in her mouth. She was going to get it.

"Christ, I asked if you got it!" Daryl relented. "Don't move!" His rough hands felt around the darkness at her feet in search of large shards. Even in the darkness he could see how scared the girl was. He could feel her fear. She was even shaking like a little leaf. "Look now, I don't got a vacuum or nothing, so don't move. Do you want water still or not?" Her only response was more uncontrollable shaking. "Okay," Daryl leaned forward, arms cast outward. "Let's get you some water." Daryl grasped the child lightly under her armpits and carried her into the kitchen. He plopped her down on the counter next to the sink. His next move was to reach into a cabinet. He pulled out a pink plastic cup, which was much better designed for her small and clumsy hands. He filled the cup and handed it to her. "Okay there's your water. Stay up here while I go clean up what I can." He turned back slowly before leaving the room. "I mean it! We can't have you stepping in glass. You have to stay there!" He cringed a bit at how harsh he was coming off.

Daryl returned with a hand full of large shards. He discarded them into the trash barrel and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Had enough?" He asked after he looked out the kitchen windows. Without receiving an answer Daryl took the empty cup from her hands. He filled it up again under the sink and passed it off. Clara drank some more. Daryl examined the windows once more. She liked that about him, he didn't stare at her like the guys back in the group did. He was taking care of her.

Clara placed the cup on the counter. Its empty clinking brought Daryl's attention back on his little company. He filled the cup a third time. This time however, he grabbed both the cup and Clara from the counter and began leaving the kitchen. During their walk up the stairs Clara heard the crunch of glass under his boots. She tensed up at the sound. "Hey now don't worry. I ain't mad; it wasn't like it was my glass. We just gotta tell Frances about it tomorrow." He mumbled. "Make sure you two put your shoes on first thing after you wake up."

Together they entered the bedroom. Soft snoring could be heard from Frances. Clara rejoiced internally at the sound. Frances was really resting. Daryl placed the cup on the nightstand next to Clara and easily laid her into bed. Clara opened her mouth to say thank you, but Daryl raised his finger to his lips. She'd have to wait until tomorrow. He handed off some covers before leaving the room for the final time that night. He didn't look over his shoulder while shutting the door, so he never saw Clara smiling at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Frances awoke by a calloused hand gently nudging her shoulder. It didn't take her eyes long to adjust to the light; it was still slightly dark out.

"Ready to head out?" Daryl whispered.

"Yeah, let me get my new shoes on."

"I'll be by the door. Don't be wasting time. And make sure you both got shoes on, broke a glass last night and couldn't exactly vacuum the mess."

Frances noticed the pink cup that was half filled with water next her knife. She wondered if Daryl had brought it in when he woke her.

Five minutes later Daryl watched Frances descend the stairs with the small girl on arm and small shoes in the other.

"Can you help me put these on her?" She thrust the sneakers forward. "She's still wiped and I figure most of our walk will be quiet anyways."

Daryl placed his cross bow on the floor and took the shoes. He had never done this before. Hell, he had never cared for a child in his entire life. He had taken off Merle's shoes on occasion when the man had passed out at the end of a night of illegal fun, but he had never tied shoes that weren't going on his own feet.

"Uhh…"

"Here you hold her and I'll do it."

They switched possessions awkwardly.

After the shoes were tightly in place on the still sleeping girl, Frances shook out her arms.

"It's damn tiring holding her all day. I have some lean muscle from it though."

"You want me to carry her?"

Frances couldn't believe he even offered. Daryl was equally surprised of his own proposition. "That would help me so much! It's tough carrying her over the rough terrain."

After a final check they headed out. Daryl had his left arm under Clara's bum; the little girl sleepily leaned into his body. Her arms draped unconcernedly around his thick neck. His real baby, his crossbow, remained attached to his right hand.

The five miles passed at a reasonable pace. Daryl only took out one walker. Frances had even retrieved his bolt. As they neared the clearing which Daryl explained opened to the Greene family farm, Frances felt her stomach flip, and it wasn't from the late night squirrel. She was exceedingly worried about meeting this new crew. Daryl waved his crossbow as they neared a camp site. At once a dozen people approached.

Daryl quietly handed off Clara to Frances before pulling a dark haired man aside. The two chatted quietly before Daryl stalked off.

_I guess I'm going to have to make friends on my own._

* * *

So far Daryl was truthful. The man Daryl had first spoken with had taken her around to a campfire. Clara had awoken during the greetings and was quietly examining all the new faces. There was an African American man keeping watch upon an RV with an old man who slightly resembled Santa. An Oriental guy had tried to joke with her while a tired looking woman with short grey hair simply stared. A few people were not so friendly. The other cop, introduced as Shane, immediately started questioning her. The head cop, Rick, calmed him down and peacefully continued the inquiries in a more informal fashion. After having spent a few hours on site, Frances felt confident that she could remember everyone's names. They all appeared to be decent people. She actually felt safe.

She had told Rick, Shane, Dale, Maggie, Lori, Andrea, and Patricia about the past group and the evils they had committed. Andrea seemed especially concerned for her, informing her that before the world went to hell she once defended victims like herself in the court of law. Rick decided to inform the others who were not present at the meeting for the sake of safety. Carl would only be told to be extra careful around strangers if he ever encountered any following his recovery. There was much hushed debate on whether to inform Carol. During the meeting Clara played with Glenn and Beth while Dale found her food to eat.

"I owe our safety to Daryl," Frances confessed. "Where is he?"

"He's out looking for Sophia." Rick replied.

"Still? He didn't even sleep last night."

"We don't sleep much either, not with watch duty and Carol crying every night in the RV." Andrea regarded.

* * *

Frances spent the day bouncing between bouts of rest and work. The group was very good about letting her recover from the entire ordeal. Frances couldn't help but wonder if they would do the same for Daryl.

As night fell upon the slightly larger group, people retired to their tents. Lori left to stay with her son, who Clara was overjoyed to meet. Rick and Dale took first shift. Andrea and Shane would serve second. T-Dog and Daryl would serve the final watch of the night. The only problem was that Daryl was still out. Did the man ever sleep?

Frances left Clara by the fire with Shane as she climbed the RV.

"Where, uh, where do you think we should sleep tonight?" Frances awkwardly asked.

Dale and Rick looked concerned. They both knew there weren't extra tents. The Greene house was even less of an option.

"Maybe you can spend one night in a car or by the fire" Rick offered.

Before she could solemnly accept, Dale piped in.

"Stay in Daryl's tent." He's not back yet and by the time he is he'll have watch duty. He won't even know you're in there."

"I don't know Dale, he's set up pretty far out. And it's Daryl." Rick reminded.

"It will be fine! We'll bring his tent in closer. He should be nearer to the group regardless!"

Frances stayed quiet while the two men thought of options for the woman and her young companion. It was decided that his tent would make due at least until he needed it. By then it would be nearing morning and Frances offered to pick up the first morning watch with Glenn. That way she could ask him about making a trip into town soon to look for an extra tent.

Frances said many thanks and actually hugged Dale before hurrying down the RV's ladder. Rick called over to Shane to escort the girls over to Daryl's empty tent.

"You know if you needed a tent, mines always an option." Shane keenly presented.

"Thanks but this is where Rick thinks I'll be so I don't want to mess up the plan."

"Sure is creepy being out here though. It's far from safety."

"I don't think anywhere is truly safe." Frances retorted.

Shane put his hand on his hips, glancing around Daryl's isolated camp. Clothes hung from a standalone stone structure.

"He does his own laundry, you believe that," Shane mocked. "Probably doesn't want Carol seeing his skid marks."

"I think it's nice of him," Frances spoke up. "She's clearly going through a lot with her only daughter missing and I doubt she wants to sit and waste time doing laundry."

"I can think of another thing that's a big waste of time." Shane again mocked.

Not appreciating where the conversation was headed Frances decided it was time to bid Shane farewell for the night.

She zipped the tent behind her and Clara and waited to hear Shane walk away. As soon as he was gone she examined the tent. There was a pillow and sleeping bag, tackle box, two flashlights, and a first aid kit. A small pile of crumpled linen and clothes sat in one corner. It smelt nice, woodsy. She didn't want to take his pillow or sleeping bag, so she used a borrowed blanket from the pile of linen and took off her new long sleeve button down flannel. She was thankful for all the layers she salvaged earlier. She balled the soft shirt into a pillow and placed it under Clara's drowsy head. Finally, she curled up next to the small child and let out a sigh of relief. This was the safest they had been since the dead started walking.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl came back about two hours before his watch duty. He was tired, hungry, dirty, and frustrated. He just wanted to get in a quick snooze before he had to be up again. He broke the news of another unsuccessful search to both Rick and Carol before retiring to his tent. Rick warned him that Frances and Clara would be inside.

Daryl was pissed, but he more exhausted. He didn't feel like arguing with Officer Grimes over this one night. Daryl untied his boots outside the tent and tip-toed into the darkness. He hoped the place looked a bit put together, as he hadn't been in it for close to forty-eight hours. Zipping the flap behind him, he turned and found himself gazing into the shiny whites of Frances' eyes.

"Daryl?"

"What?"

"Any luck?"

"No." Daryl almost began taking his shirt off out of habit, but ruled against it. He did however, slip off his belt.

"I'm sorry."

Daryl lay down on his sleeping bag. Immediately he sat up again.

"Why ain't you in this sleeping bag?"

"Are you kidding? I'm in your tent, isn't that enough?"

"Well you can have it; do you even have a pillow?"

"I'm fine, you're the one who truly needs a good night sleep."

"Got a shift in less than two hours." Daryl spoke into the darkness.

"Mine is in four, wanna trade?"

"You're already pulling shifts?"

"We're switching, it's settled." Frances spoke through a smile.

Daryl struggled to get comfortable in his own tent. It felt wrong to be this close to the pair. He swore he'd never even spent this much time around a kid.

"Daryl," Frances whispered. "Thanks again." She was more appreciative it was dark. Her eyes were threatening to spill tears.

A grunt was his only reply.

"Daryl, before you go to sleep, real quick," She posed. "Why did you offer us all this? Why did you rescue us?"

There was a long pause. In the time it took Daryl to respond, tears were steadily, yet silently running down her face. She really hoped Daryl couldn't see.

"Cause if Sophia ran into someone, I'd hope they would offer her safety. If not our group, I would hope for someone to rescue her."

Frances couldn't speak. She wouldn't. Her voice would surely crack and he would finally see her tears.

* * *

Shane appeared outside of the tent to wake Daryl up for his shift. He was mildly surprised to see Frances step out from inside.

Shane grinned at her. "What are you doing? This your way of paying him back?"

"It's just my way of making sure he gets more than two hours of sleep."

"You're leaving Clara in there with him?"

"Is there any reason not too?" Worry tinged upon her tongue.

"I don't think he's much of a kid person. He'll probably scare her."

"Oh, well, they are both fast asleep and my watch is only two hours long. Everything should be fine. And if not," She added. "I'd feel a bit better knowing he was close to her."

Shane did little to hide his dissatisfaction with her answer but did walk her back to the RV. She climbed on top and took a seat next to T-Dog. He handed her a rifle.

"Where's the Red Neck?" He joked.

"Daryl's sleeping like a log." Frances smiled back. "You're letting me use the rifle?"

T-Dog moved to show her his arm. "I'm not exactly the best guy to have his hand on a high-powered weapon. I'll stick to the binoculars for a bit longer."

"What happened?"

"Cut it on a rusty car door up on the highway the day Sophia went missing. A hoard of walkers passed us and a few almost got me. Daryl actually saved me, both from the walkers, and a blood infection. He had all these antibiotics, and a little more," T-Dog chuckled again. "But the extracurricular stuff belongs to his brother."

"Daryl has a brother?"

T-Dog looked down. A mix of shame and fear cast over his features. "Yeah, but let me explain..."

Daryl tossed heavily in his sleep. Images of Sophia being confronted by Frances' group rivaled the horror of her being confronted by a horde of walkers. It was a shame that they couldn't do much to stop those guys. He had reminded himself to talk more with Rick in the morning about their options concerning this other group.

Four hours of sleep actually felt great. Daryl's internal alarm clock had him up for his shift fifteen minutes early. He thought about heading over, but realized he couldn't leave the little girl alone in his tent. It was too far from the main camp to hear the small girl if she called for help.

So he sat and waited. He watched Clara sleep for a bit. Children were scary, he decided. She slept on her stomach, her fingers settled in her mouth. Her unruly blond hair stuck out in all directions. He sighed quietly. He couldn't believe the pair had survived on their own, and again cursed the men they had been trapped with. Five minutes after his shift should have begun Frances crept back into the tent.

"Sorry I'm late; I was just talking with Glenn."

Daryl grabbed his cross bow and began to exit the tent.

"You don't mind if we stay here for a few more hours, do you?"

Daryl shook his head. "You can use the pillow or sleeping bag now, if you want. I can come get you for breakfast too." His eyes continued to scan the perimeter surrounding his belongings.

"That would be great."

Frances zipped the tent as Daryl strode over to camp.

"Morning Daryl." Glenn greeted.

"Hey." Daryl replied gruffly.

The two sat in a long silence. They watched the sun steadily rise over the barn in the distance. It was a beautiful sight.

"So, are you looking for Sophia again today?" Glenn awkwardly broke the silence.

Daryl turned sharply. "Looking for her every day until she's back here, idiot."

Glenn pursed his lips. Daryl was definitely hard to talk to. He knew the bow hunter had been a while without sleep, and probably just as long without food. The stress of finding Sophia probably didn't help either.

"Look man, sorry. I know you're doing everything in your power to get her back with us. We appreciate it. We appreciate everything you do for us." Glenn paused when he noticed Daryl's grip tighten on his cross-bow. "And I'm going on a supply run today for some things. I'm picking up a tent for Frances and Clara, so you can finally get a good night sleep. I know that must be annoying having to give up your personal space. It's not like we get much as it is."

Daryl didn't reply.

"Well, do you need anything?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Let me know if you think of anything."

"But you're going in for other things too, right?"

"Yeah, you think of something?"

"No. Its just…" Daryl fumbled. "You don't have to risk a run for a tent. Merle's tent is still somewhere. They can have it."

Glenn didn't know what to say. He had been with Daryl when they found Merle's hand on the roof, and even then Daryl hadn't entertained the idea of Merle not making it. Was this some type closure?

"He's still out there. He'll kick my ass for giving out his stuff, that's for sure. But if they need it I'm not saying no to them." Daryl spoke.

"That's nice of you. I'll ask around if anyone else needs anything though, and I'll grab a tent just in case. Maybe Merle will want his tent if we meet up again."

Daryl blinked twice. Did the Asian just infer that Merle was alive? Was someone pulling for his jackass big brother? Did the group really care?

"You mean that?" Daryl quietly questioned.

"Yeah, you said it yourself. Only Merle can kill Merle. You're both tough you know."

"Thanks, Chinaman." Daryl lifted his eyes to the rising sun.

Glenn laughed lightly and patted Daryl on the back. "Watch duty isn't that bad with you Dixon, even if you are a moody bitch over lack of sleep."

Daryl ignored the smile Glenn proudly displayed.

"You're a brave son of a bitch."

"I could say the same about you."


	6. Chapter 6

The next two days passed without incident. Frances and Clara felt at peace. The girl had spent all day with Carl and Lori. She helped Beth with the chickens and Carol with the dishes. Frances began shooting practice with a group led by Shane.

"Alright, two hands always in place. You must be in control both physically and mentally. Expect the kick; we are working with high fire power." Shane instructed. "None of that gangster shit!" He scolded Jimmy.

"Alright Andrea, looking good!"

Frances bit her lip. She wasn't exactly patient when she was learning something new. She liked to be good at something right way. She was jealous of how quickly Andrea was learning.

"How we doing over here?" Shane's arm snuck around her hips. "You'd do better if you stood with your hips more square to the target." He slowly adjusted her stance and leaned in close. "Maybe you just need some private lessons. I gave Andrea a few and look how good she's shooting".

Frances suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily T-Dog noticed. "Hey man, I think we've used enough ammo today, how about we head back. Carol and Patricia probably need help with dinner. Plus we have extra people out today. We shouldn't leave the farm so vulnerable."

The ride back was quiet. Frances was excited to get back to Clara. This had been the longest she had ever left her side. As they pulled into the drive way Frances hopped out. Clara and Dale were perched atop the RV each with a glass of cool water in their hands. Together Andrea and Frances climbed the ladder. They chatted for a few hours. As dinner neared Dale left to wash up. Frances complimented Andrea on her shooting skills. It had been a fairly relaxing day. The women sat crossed legged in folding chairs and eagerly waited for the dinner bell.

Suddenly Andrea jumped up. "Walker!" she yelled to the camp. Frances sat up, squinting into the setting sun. "I got it!"

"No!" Yelled Rick as a few men ran to the property's edge. "It's Hershel's land, his decision!"

Andrea lay down on the RV roof. A small curse escaped her lips as she positioned the rifle.

"Andrea I don't think this is a good idea. Guns are loud. It's only one walker!" Frances moved toward the determined woman.

"I can handle it, you saw me today."

The men crowed around the walker, allowing Andrea a clear path to its head. She pulled the trigger. Immediately the walker went down. No sooner did Rick yell for help.

"No! No! It's Daryl!" Rick yelled from a distance. Immediately the men lifted the wounded man and began dragging him toward the house. "Get Hershel!"

"Oh my God Andrea, you shot Daryl!" Frances screamed.

"I didn't know! I'm so sorry, is he okay?" Andrea was frantic with worry as they made way for the men.

"Just get him to Hershel. He looks like hell." Shane quipped.

* * *

Daryl had gone through one hell of day. Frances couldn't focus on the delicious dinner Carol made without wondering what was going on upstairs. They had rushed Daryl in an hour ago. T-Dog had delivered Sophia's doll to Carol, who clutched it under the table. Clara was particularly quiet.

"Are you okay chickie?" Frances brushed a kiss on the girl's forehead while spooning some more vegetables and meat onto the girl's plate. "You need to eat."

The small girl cupped her mouth in her little hands and placed them to cover Frances ears. "Is Daryl okay?" Frances nodded. "He will be fine. He just needs to rest a lot."

"You can bring him something to eat now," Hershel's voice carried down the stairs. "I'm sure he's hungry."

Carol quickly pushed her chair back and arranged a hearty tray of food for the injured tracker. She calmly composed herself before heading upstairs. Clara held Sophia's doll while Carol was gone.

Carol returned later to help Frances with the dishes. She looked drained, but happy.

"He okay?" Frances asked.

"He looks a mess, but mostly intact." Carol dipped her hands into the soapy water and pulled out a pan.

"You've had a long day Carol. Why don't you lie down?"

"I think I will. Thank you."

Frances finished the dishes within a half hour. The table was also scrubbed along with the kitchen counter tops. All that was left were Daryl's dishes. He would probably be asleep; she could easily slip in and grab them.

Frances slowly opened the bedroom door. It creaked loud enough to draw walkers from all over, Frances thought. Daryl peered over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just here to collect your dishes."

Frances glanced over the food. There was still a lot left.

"You not hungry?"

Daryl grunted.

"What happened today?" Her eyes examined his body. Only hours before he had been a picture of extreme power. He now appeared incapable of decent posture. The overbearing presence of stitches and bandages were frightening and served as a mocking reminder of even the strongest warrior's mortality.

"Horse got spooked and bucked me off a cliff into some water. Had to climb back up. It took half the day, especially with the walkers and the arrow. Hershel patched me up though. I'll be fine tomorrow."

Frances was stunned. "Good tomorrow? Daryl you almost died. You are still filthy too; didn't Hershel have the sense to wash you up before he patched you up?"

"Well I don't think the stitches can get wet now!" His rabid tone expelled a breath of deep-seated fury.

"Well you do want to be clean?"

"I want to find that damn girl!"

Frances edged closer to the bed and occupied her hands with his dishes. To stay would be to accept his wrath, but to leave would allow it to fester. She would have to claim it.

"We all want you to find Sophia. But you need to be careful, think of yourself too. You need to heal and right now you need to eat. I know you are hungry."

When Daryl didn't respond after a minute Frances took the initiative. She forcibly scooted herself and the food closer to his headboard and held out a spoon full of potatoes.

"Eat."

Daryl gave her a bewildered look. He was slightly manic and entirely embarrassed. No one treated a Dixon like this. He swatted her assisting hand away. "I don't need you to feed me like some kid. Shouldn't you be off with Clara?"

"Let me help, I still owe you for everything you did for me. You did feed me the first night, remember?"

Daryl thought back to their night in the abandoned house. Sure he cooked for her, but he didn't force feed her like some infant. "You don't owe me nothing. Now move over." He spat as he reached for the spoon. Frances calmed considerably as he began to eat the food Carol had brought up earlier. As Daryl shifted in the bed Frances noticed the dirty sheets. The dark stains worked like shadows, a constant, committed reminder of his brush with death.

"I'll be right back, keep eating." She rose purposefully off the bed and snuck out the door.

She returned five minutes later, carrying two small towels over her shoulder and a basin of warm water. She was happily surprised to see Daryl had finished his food. She put the bowl on the table and took the tray of food back down into the kitchen. She dumped it in the sink hoping one of the Greene girls would clean it. It would probably remain dirty for the rest of the night; she had noticed Glenn and Maggie passing notes during dinner. She climbed the stairs quietly and returned to the makeshift infirmary. Daryl was peering into the bowl, clearly unsure of what she was using it for.

"You trying to get me to soak my feet? Because that's not happening."

Frances chuckled. "No, I'll leave your feet alone, but I'd like to take a look around your wounds. Maybe get you to wash your face. Even change the sheets if it doesn't hurt too much to stand."

Daryl challenged her. "You tried to feed me and now you wanna bathe me? I ain't a kid. Go keep after Clara, if you're lucky she won't end up like Sophia."

Harsh words were Daryl's defense against embarrassment and exposure. Smarting images of Clara lost in the woods flashed through Frances' mind. Physical pain struck just as forcefully as emotional pain. "Shut up Daryl," She spat back. "You may be able to hunt and track but this is proof you can't always take care of yourself. This group needs you. Do you want to end up with a nasty infection? Do you really think sleeping in bloody, disgusting sheets is going to help?"

"Let me sleep woman. I ate like you wanted, now leave me be."

Daryl was now fully sitting up in bed. The sheets clumped around his waist. Frances scanned his chest, not failing to notice the random parade of scars and gashes. The brown dirt stood in contrast to the white, brown, and red time worn lines of pain that swathed his broad chest and continued out of sight. She stopped arguing and sulked.

"I'm just trying to help. I really care about this group. I want to see us all healthy, happy and safe."

Daryl was hoping for two things. First, he hoped she wasn't going to leave crying. If she was pissed he could deal with it, but he hated when women cried. It was worse if he was the reason for the tears. He pictured her going to Rick or Shane saying how awful he had treated her. They'd in turn tell him to leave. The second thing he hoped for was that she didn't get grossed out by all his scars. He knew they were there in plain sight. They always would be. He had grown to accept them. The scars he had a harder time accepting were the ones caused by the disturbed expressions of first time viewers. Emotional pain struck just as forcefully as physical pain.

He expected her to leave. The decibel level of their conversation had peaked and her last words sounded small and defeated. That's why Daryl was surprised when she grabbed the hand towel from over her shoulder and dipped it in the water basin. He couldn't even escape as the stitches in his side pulled and throbbed as he leaned away from her approaching hand.

"Clara doesn't even fuss like this. Now sit still and stop being an ass!" Her outburst brought on a few tears. Daryl couldn't yell at her now.

Her hands worked through his thick hair first. He could feel well composed clumps of dirt loosing from his skull and sliding down the back of his neck. He heard her sniffle and shut his eyes tight. He had a massive headache. He tried to ignore the pain by focusing on the pleasure her soft scrubbing provided. Each time her fingers made a pass through his hair he felt as if he had wiped days of frustration from his mind. She was careful to avoid the gunshot wound on his temple as she cleaned gently around his ears and hairline. The water dripped down his chest and onto the sheets. She would have to get him new ones. Daryl was nervous as she began working on his back and chest. Would she say anything about the scars? Would her hands avoid them? His thoughts were interrupted by a question.

"When did you get these? Were you young?"

Daryl couldn't speak. She had come right out and asked about the awful markings. He fumbled for words before she interrupted again.

"I'm only asking because I think they are stunning."

She thought his pain was attractive? Daryl truly didn't know what to think of the conversation she was stirring.

"I like black ink much more than color. Always have, probably because my father had all black ink tattoos."

Daryl blinked. She wasn't talking about his hideous scars; she was talking about his tattoos.

"Oh those, yeah," Daryl recovered. "I got the demons when I was twenty-one. Wasn't my first though." His palm patted the ink that covered his heart. Frances leaned around him to see.

"Norma?" she asked. "Who's that?"

"My ma." Daryl's hand stayed put over the ink. "She wasn't around much when I was a baby, she was long gone by the time I was seven. I got this when I was seventeen; it was really just a stupid attempt to convince myself she was still with me, even though she never was."

Frances pulled his hand away and traced the letters with her fingernail. She could have sworn Daryl was holding his breath.

"Seventeen? You made a good choice with the script and artist. I think its meaning is important too." She carefully dragged the wet cloth over each letter, determined to see them shine. When she was satisfied with her work on his chest, she changed rags and started on his arms.

"You got any ink?" Daryl asked. He felt awkward as she scrubbed under his fingernails.

"I wish. Probably never will now." Disappointment obvious in her tone.

"Well, if we ever meet up with my brother again, he can show you how to do a homemade one. He's got plenty."

Frances laughed. "India ink style?"

"Why not? It's not like a tattoo is gonna affect your chances for a job on Wall street."

"I'll think about it." Frances continued scrubbing trying to concentrate, only to be wrapped in the feel of Daryl's strong arms. The man was all muscle. She both envied and awed over him. She had tried to work out and go for runs around the perimeter. Strong physical condition was crucial in this world. You never knew when you would need to run, jump, or climb away from danger.

After an hour of quiet scrubbing Daryl was clean from the waist up. Daryl had told her multiple times to work cautiously around his side. He said it was because of the pain, which wasn't a total lie, but truly he just didn't want her tickling him.

His side was absolutely killing from holding a sitting position for so long, but the cleanly feeling was worth the endurance. The rag was black with dirt, as was the water. Frances had even left the room to change equipment on several occasions. She took the water away for the last time and returned with clean sheets. He refused her help when he stood up but wouldn't allow her to fix the bed alone. They changed the sheets in silence. She flipped the pillow case inside out before leaving. Daryl was unsure if she was coming back. She had been extra mindful around his wounds and had not lingered over particularly gruesome scars. She worked efficiently and with the thoroughness of a skilled doctor. He wanted to thank her. She returned briefly to make sure the room was tidy and shut off the light. Daryl reluctantly kept his mouth shut the entire time.


	7. Chapter 7

Frances climbed into the sleeping bag with Clara. She needed to thank Andrea for tucking the girl into bed for her. Frances thought about Daryl some more. She was so happy that he was getting to sleep in a real bed. He deserved it. She also needed to thank him, the tent her and Clara were currently residing in belonged to Merle and had been given to and set up for her by Daryl before his accident.

That morning Carol had caught Daryl sneaking off with a saddle. They got into a fight and he had called her a bitch. After seeing how upset Carol looked she decided to approach him.

"Hey," Frances called to the grumpy man inside his tent. "Can we talk?"

When he didn't respond Frances entered his tent.

"You may be looking for Sophia, which is admirable, but you have to watch your temper around Carol. I can't believe you yelled at her. She has been crying all day."

Immediately Daryl sat up. The book he had been holding whipped against the opposite side of the tent.

"Do you know what she was saying? She was saying that she doesn't think Sophia is alive anymore. She thinks she's gone! The worst part is she doesn't want me out there risking my life for her. It's her baby girl and she's given up!"

Carol had failed to mention that. Frances sat down next to Daryl so that their legs were touching. "I think she has a point about wanting you to be safe. You shouldn't go off alone like you did. But she is dead wrong about giving up. You can't ever give up in this world. You won't make it."

"Get the hell out of my tent. Go look after your own girl! Christ, none of you women can keep track of your own kids."

Frances left the tent wordlessly. His anger was draining. She approached Andrea who was playing with Clara around the fire pit.

"Dixon's can be a real ass when he wants to be," she whispered. "I can't believe he made Carol cry earlier."

"Don't tell me that," Andrea whined. "I still feel like shit about the whole shooting him ordeal. I was going to head over soon and apologize again, just to make sure we are all set."

"Goodluck with that." Frances quipped as she picked up Clara and walked into the RV to see Dale. Instead of finding Dale, the two females walked in on an awkward situation. Shane and Lori were yelling at each other quietly. Shane was incredibly close to Lori who was jabbing him in the chest with her boney finger. Immediately Shane back down. He looked at the floor while Lori pushed by them and exited the vehicle. "Everything okay?" Frances asked.

"Yeah, Glenn and Maggie went on a bad supply run. She almost got bit. Glenn took it out though. I guess we were just arguing on how important those runs are." With that he left.

Frances carried Clara over to the Grimes' tent. She was hoping to comfort Lori, who had clearly been in some distress. The tent was empty, but something caught her eye. Packets of empty Plan-B pills littered a small table. She ran out of the tent to look for Lori. She couldn't find her anywhere. In fact, she couldn't find anyone. Shane and Andrea had just taken off in search of Sophia. The Greene's were tending to their cattle and produce all over the property. Dale had gone off to speak with Hershel. Carol and T-Dog were out harvesting food for dinner. Glenn seemed beyond stressed after returning from his supply run with Maggie. She hadn't seen much of Rick all day. Knowing that this wasn't a situation for Clara to be involved in, she placed the girl in the care of the only person she knew would be around, Daryl.

"Clara you're going to stay with Daryl for a bit while I go find Lori, okay? Please be good for Mr. Dixon!" She was nearing his secluded tent when she finally saw a lone figure in the distance. It looked thin like Lori and it was hunched over. "Oh God." Her pace quickened.

"Daryl! Daryl, I need you to watch Clara for a minute. Got something important to take care of!" She didn't wait for him to respond. She dropped the girl in front of his zipped tent and ran off in the direction of Lori.

"What are you talking about? I'm no babysitter!" Daryl drawled from inside.

"Lori! Lori! Are you okay? Lori I need to talk with you!" She hustled over and grabbed the woman by her thin arm. Lori was crying hysterically. "I threw them up. I threw them up," Lori repeated. "I almost got Maggie and Glenn killed. I need to tell Rick everything."

Frances cradled the broken woman in her arms. Together they sat down in the dirt and leaned against the fence. Lori's head was buried into Frances' shoulder, which helped because Daryl was clearly watching from his tent, Clara by his side. They made eye contact not so briefly before he ushered the small child into his tent. He cocked his head to the side before nodding once and entering the tent himself.

"I'm pregnant," Lori finally announced. "I put too much on Glenn's shoulders. I can tell he's so stressed."

Frances simply stroked the woman's hair and rubbed her back.

"This is awful. I can't do this. I can't do this to a baby. I need to tell Rick so much." Lori's babbling became more and more wild.

"You do what you need to do. I am here for you. We all are."

"You're all going to hate me!"

"We don't hate you, we never could. Rick's going to be so touched to know that in all this darkness you are carrying a little light," Her hand dropped to Lori's abdomen. "This is a miracle."

Suddenly the two heard footsteps. Their heads turn to see Rick. His pace slowed to a stop as he neared the two. "Lori," His voice sounded broken. "Can we talk?" Frances eyed an empty pill box in his hand.

"Frances felt Lori's nails dig into her arms. "Yes you two can talk. I'm leaving now anyways." She stood slowly, making sure Lori had her feet under her. She walked off hastily towards Daryl's tent.

"Sorry about that," She poked her head into Daryl's tent and extended her hand to Clara. "We're leaving now."

"Hey now, wait up," Daryl was sitting with his buck knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. He was making arrows and letting Clara play with the feathers. "What the heck was that about?"

"It's not something to talk about right now." Her head motioning to Clara.

"Well when would be a good time? Can you check your schedule?"

"Daryl, it's serious. And it's none of your business." She pointed her finger at Clara and told her to come out of the tent.

Together they walked back to the camp. Lunch would be soon. Slowly everyone congregated. Andrea and Shane acted a bit different after their encounter in the abandoned development. She could tell Dale was stressed before the pair returned and now he appeared perilously close to the edge. Maggie was clearly pissed at Lori, who was silent and withdrawn. Rick looked equally withdrawn, which would be expected. Carol was still depressed and Hershel didn't even show his face. Clearly there was something going on with everyone. Frances ate swiftly and served her watch duty with Carl and Clara. The three chatted much about Sophia. Carl clearly wanted her to come back.

Frances watched the two interact. Carl was great with Clara. He had patients and a positive attitude. He was like a big brother, but also a best friend. She couldn't stop herself from smiling. Even if today had been a bit of a down day, this group was amazing. "Carl, would you like to have a sleepover later tonight in our tent?" Frances leaned down toward the sitting kids.

"Yeah!" Both exclaimed excitedly.

After her watch ended she went to find Rick. She wanted to let him know about the sleepover. She also wanted to let him know that she was there for him and Lori. She figured they could use a night to themselves. As Frances walked the grounds looking for Rick she bumped into Shane. He looked disturbed. "Hey do you know where Rick is? Carl's sleeping in my tent tonight; I figured those two could use a night to themselves." Immediately Shane invaded Frances' personal space. "Yeah cause that's what they need right now. Good for you for helping them out. That's so nice of you." His nose was almost touching hers. "What is this? Bad cop routine or something, back off." Frances warned.

"No you back off and stop getting in the way. I don't even get why you're here!" Shane was beginning to scare her. Her hand gripped the knife attached to her belt. "Come on, what are you going to do?" Shane kept poking her in the chest. She swatted his hand away and doled out another warning.

"I mean it Shane; I've done nothing to make you this mad so cut it out!"

Shane backed off unexpectedly. "Whatever. You don't know nothing!" he gruffly muttered.

He was looking over her shoulder with a nasty scowl on his face. She turned to glance at what he was looking at. Daryl stood no less than ten feet away, crossbow resting at his hip. His presence made Frances feel a bit more in control over Shane. "What do you want, hick?" Shane asked.

Daryl ignored the comment. "Just looking for Rick too. Need to chat."

"Rick sure is popular. You know I'm just as good as he is, why not chat with me?"

Shane's thick arm pushed Frances throwing off her balance. The ten feet between Frances and Daryl closed instantly as Daryl met Shane with a hard glare. "Watch yourself Walsh. That's not very upholding of the law now is it? You sure got a sick way of handling women."

"I handle my women better than you, you made Carol cry today. And chasing after that little girl! She's gone! You're chasing a ghost!"

Daryl's fist connected with Shane's nose producing a loud crack. The two grappled on the grass before Rick appeared to break it up. Shane stormed off into the woods hurling insults over his shoulder.

"You are all gonna wind up as walkers!" was Shane's last comment.

"Are you okay," Frances worried. "How are your stitches?" She tried to lift his shirt.

"I'm fine." He struggled. He was clearly in a lot of pain.

"We need to sit down. I want to know what that was all about." Rick demanded.

After Frances explained her side of the story Daryl began. He had sought out Rick to talk more about the search for Sophia and the group Frances had escaped from.

Neither Rick nor Frances mentioned Lori's condition. Rick stalked off to find Lori and Daryl and Frances went back to Daryl's tent to check his side. A small spot of blood had formed on his flannel shirt during their conversation with Rick.

"What's Shane's issue?" She asked as she handed Daryl an alcohol wipe.

"Listen, we both got secrets. How about we share and both get our questions answered." Daryl offered.

"I don't know. What I know is serious. And seriously not any of your business, or mine for that matter."

Daryl gave her a look. She analyzed it carefully. He was hurt. He was making an effort to really join the group. Both Glenn and Dale had told her that in recent conversation. After noting how he rarely talked, Frances figured it wouldn't be awful for him to know about Lori's situation. "Okay," She gave in. "Lori is pregnant. I think Maggie is mad because she had to go with Glenn to get her Plan-B and they were attacked. She took the pills but threw them up. That's why I was so frantic earlier. I thought she was trying to abort it."

Daryl expression showed a mix of confusion and concern, quickly followed by realization as his eyebrows climbed his forehead.

"What? You know something! What is it?" She pushed.

"Okay, okay," Daryl stumbled. "Back at our first camp sight I may have seen Shane and Lori…together. I mean, everyone thought they were married! Then Rick showed up and no one said anything."

"Are you for real? Is the baby Shane's?"

"Probably, I mean it was only a few weeks ago. That's enough time right?"

"Yes. A few weeks combined with the stress of survival. Hell, she probably didn't think she was pregnant even if she wasn't getting her period."

Daryl made a face at the mention of periods.

"Grow up Dixon," She teased. "This is serious!"

"I know!"

After dabbing his side with the alcohol Daryl spoke again.

"Stay away from him."

"I don't think I'll have trouble doing that."

"Yeah, he's pissing everyone off. Me, Dale, Lori and Rick. The way he's been with Andrea. The whole Otis thing…Shane's a loose cannon."

"What's the Otis thing?"

Daryl explained what had happened the night before he had arrived at the farm.

"Do you think Shane killed the guy?"

"To escape from walkers, maybe. To save Carl and make Lori happy, definitely."

This was all too much for Frances to handle. "I need to get back to Clara. I left her and Carl with Glenn."

"You want me to walk you there?"

"No, I'll be fine, plus you need to take it easy. Thanks though."

Frances climbed the RV ladder and smiled at the kids. They were playing cards while Glenn sat on watch. He seemed stress too. "Are you okay?" She asked placing a hand on his shoulder.

Glenn's hands fidgeted a bit in his lap. "I'm fine."

Frances decided to skip dinner later that night. Instead she stole a bit of food for Clara and played cards with her in their tent. After a few games of crazy eights the two read a book and lay down in their sleeping bags. This was the first night she didn't feel safe with the group. She hoped tomorrow would be a better day. Frances sighed deeply. Sleep in this new world was light and often disrupted. It is hard to sleep with your eyes closed but your ears open.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came quietly. The group ate breakfast around the smoldering fire pit. Frances picked up on tension between Dale and Glenn. Everyone else seemed relatively calm. Suddenly Glenn interrupted the scene.

"Uh, Guys..." He hesitated, waiting for everyone's undivided attention. "The barn is full of walkers."

No one responded right away. Slowly they all stood and walked down to the barn. The snarls and groans of the undead could be heard through the wooden doors. A few times a walker banged up against it and the doors threatened to open.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this." Shane said backing away from the door.

"Of course I'm not!" Rick snapped back. "But we're guests here, this isn't our land."

"This is our lives, man!" Shane yelled.

At once Lori told him to lower his voice. Andrea and T-Dog seemed to be taking Shane's side. Frances just held Clara close. She wondered if it were safe to have her this close to the barn.

"We have got to make things right, or just go. We have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time now!" Shane offered.

Rick lost a bit of his temper. "We can't just go!"

"Why Rick, why?" Shane challenged.

"Because my daughter's still out there." A small feminine voice broke into the masculine conversation. Carol stepped forward into Shane's view.

Shane struggled to contain his frustration. "Listen I think it's time we try to consider the other possibility…"

Frances was shocked. Sure the girl's chanced dwindled with every passing day but you could not say such harsh words to Carol with damning blatancy. Frances squeezed Clara and bit back her anger.

Daryl finally broke his silence. He had been trying to keep his Zen after his outburst with Carol.

"We're close to finding this girl!" He side stepped around Carol blocking Shane's view of her. "I just found her damn doll a few days ago!"

Shane started to laugh. "You found a doll Daryl, that's what you did. You found a doll!"

Frances couldn't believe Shane. At this point he was simply being hurtful. Daryl's ego was surely bruised.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking 'bout!" Daryl advanced towards Shane as he tried weakly to defend his rude comments.

"And let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming, all methed out with your buck knife and your geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!"

"Shut up!" Daryl yelled getting close to Shane.

Rick placed himself in the middle of the two, Daryl tried to get around Rick to punch Shane but it was quickly broken up by the rest of the group. Andrea and Carol pushed Daryl back. Frances grabbed his wrist. It was hot. He didn't look at her; his eyes were still set on Shane. Clara's little hand made a tight grab at the edge of his ripped sleeve.

"Don't touch me." Shane yelled at Lori.

_So that's where a lot of his anger is coming from._ Frances thought.

"Just let me talk to Hershel." Rick spoke, trying to gain back control of the crazy situation.

Dale spoke up. "These are Hershel's people. He sees these as sick people. Some are his family, his wife, his step son!"

Shane immediately chastised Dale for knowing about the walkers and not speaking up. As the yelling continued the barn doors creaked. Multiple walkers were pushing against it. Everyone backed away quickly. Daryl grabbed Frances' wrist and brought her and Clara behind him. The group moved back to their sight as Shane stayed to check the door's safety.

Rick left to talk with Hershel and Andrea planned to watch the barn until Rick was done. They were going to look for Sophia after.

Frances walked into the kitchen to retrieve water for Clara. Her girl had gotten choked up from all the fighting. She heard Rick and Hershel arguing over the barn. Rick told him about Lori. He had called it a death sentence if they were forced to leave. Frances left the kitchen; the only water she left with came in the form of tears.

Frances decided to spend the day comforting Clara and Carol. Together they did laundry. She noticed Rick head off with Hershel. Andrea walked down to the barn with a gun. Suddenly Daryl appeared. "Carol, can I show you something?"

"Sure." She answered sweetly.

The two walked off leaving Frances and Clara with the linen.

Carol returned to Frances a bit later. Daryl had taken her to look at some Cherokee Roses. He apologized for what had happened earlier. Carol smiled softly. "He's done more for me and my girl than Ed ever did."

"Who's Ed?" Frances gently asked.

"Let me explain everything. You'll understand why I know Daryl is every bit as good as Rick and Shane."

* * *

A few hours later everyone seemed to reconvene in front of the Greene household. Andrea asked where Rick was. He and Hershel had been gone for hours, which severely impacted their time spent searching for Sophia.

"Damn it, isn't anyone taking this seriously? We got us a damn trail!" Daryl asked. He turned leisurely to face Shane who had come from the woods. The gun bag was drawn over his shoulder. "Ah, here we go." Daryl muttered.

Shane extended a rifle to Daryl. "What's all this?" the hunter asked.

"You with me, man?"

"Yeah." Daryl replied grabbing the rifle and checking the barrel.

Time to grow up." Shane simply stated to the group.

"Where's Dale?" Andrea asked.

"He's on his way." Shane said while he handed out more guns.

Shane tried to hand Carl a gun but Lori positioned herself between the two. Soon there was a fight about the fire arms and Hershel's rules. Frances became worried. Everyone was armed.

"Oh Shit." T-Dog exclaimed. Everyone's attention was drawn to the perimeter where Jimmy appeared acting as live bait for two walkers on poles. Rick held one and Hershel the other.

Daryl stepped in front of Frances. His head cocked to the side examining the dangerous situation.

Shane began running toward the men, Daryl and T-Dog not far behind. The rest took off at a slower pace.

Shane began circling the men and walkers, fighting with Hershel over the humanity of the geeks. Daryl had his rifle aimed at the walkers, ready to take out the threat. Frances was trying to shield Clara from the morbid sight, and unexpectedly heard shots. Shane had shot the female walker in the chest multiple times. Everyone ducked and jumped. Shane was losing control over himself. Rick was powerless to stop it with the walker in his grasp.

"Why is it still coming?" Shane yelled.

He fired round after round into the decaying geek.

"Shane! Enough!" Rick was trying desperately to regain control.

"Yeah you're right man; that is enough." Shane approached the walker and put a single bullet through its head. It fell with a thud. Hershel looked devastated.

Lori held Carl while Frances put her lips to Clara's cheek.

"It is okay chickie, I'm here. It will be okay." She whispered small reassurances to the scared child.

She made eye contact with Daryl. He was the only one with his weapon still raised.

Shane continued his enraged speech. He talked about survival and fighting. He ran for the barn doors. Rick tried desperately to make Hershel take his poll but the man was in a stupor.

After a few whacks on the doors the lock gave. Shane backed up. Everyone did, and Frances managed to trip. She landed on her butt with Clara screaming. Daryl looked back for a split second and positioned himself in front of their view.

Andrea lurched to Shane's side, putting round after round into the spill of walkers emerging from the darkness. After one last look back Daryl aided Shane and Andrea. Glenn and T-Dog followed.

Hershel shook his head at all the chaos and death. Clara cried into Frances' shoulder, which was barely audible over the gunfire. After a full minute of shooting the barn appeared empty. Clara's cries could now be heard. The young girl couldn't seem to catch her breath, and her whole body shook furiously. Daryl threw the Clara a look of sorrow. He didn't want the kids to have to see this.

Suddenly Dale approached. He stopped at the scene and placed a hand on Frances head, slightly stroking her brown hair. Over the sobs a growl could be heard. Daryl raised his gun at the door.

Out of the darkness two shoes hit the light. Two twig legs were fed into them. A child, a walker stepped cautiously into the light. Carol burst forward. "Oh no! Sophia!" This walker was Sophia. Everyone's heart broke collectively. Tears welled up in Frances eyes as Daryl stepped forward to catch Carol. She dragged him to the ground. She collapsed repeating her baby's name. Carl curled into Lori's lap. She whispered to him not to watch. Frances did the same with Clara. Frances wanted to be sick. This whole time, the poor child had been in the barn.

Cries grew louder as the thin undead girl stumbled over her barn companions. Rick shook his head slightly and stepped forward. Shane backed down as Rick pulled his gun. With little hesitation he aimed and fired. The girl hit the ground with a sickening thud. Carol broke down completely. Daryl tried not to stare at the body. He attempted to lift Carol up. "Don't look, don't look!" He advised. She spun out of his hands and took off angrily. Daryl stood motionless, unsure on how to react.

The Greene's made their way back into their house. Hershel wanted them off his land. Dale took Carl and Clara to rest back at the house. T-Dog whispered to Frances that they buried the bodies of loved ones and usually burned the rest. They began planning a small service for Sophia, Annette, and Sean over by some trees.

When the graves were ready Lori went to get Sophia and Daryl. He had gone off after her and was currently keeping her company in the RV. His presence in the RV served as her only outside support during this awful tragedy. Lori returned with Daryl only. The thought of Carol alone in the RV made Frances want to weep. She was very uncomfortable attending the first funeral of this kind so she stood in the back, away from the others. Daryl stayed by her side. His arms were crossed as he stared solemnly at the little plot. Frances wiped her eyes as Hershel read from the family Bible. Daryl offered her his hand, which she gladly took, when Rick spoke for Sophia. When the service was over Daryl let her grip go and stormed off to his isolated tent. Frances sought out Clara.

As night settled more incidents occurred. Beth went into some type of shock. Hershel took off into town to drink compelling Rick and Glenn to go after him. Frances decided to take Clara, who was napping, and go check in on Daryl.

The sun was setting as she made her way to his camp. He was sulking over a small fire. His eyes were red and puffy. She stopped before him. He avoided her gaze. He thought she was leaving as she made moves away from him, but realized she was just placing the sleeping Clara in his tent. She sat down on the ground next to him and placed her arm over his thigh. She rested her heavy head against it while her palm rubbed his knee.

Daryl closed his eyes. What was this lady doing? He continued stabbing the fire until the logs inside the pit were crushed to smoldering ash. The sky was dark and the air was hot. Frances continued rub his knee periodically which prevented him from bouncing his leg.

"You leaving soon?" He broke the silence.

"No."

"You should leave. Take your girl and go."

"Not tonight. You shouldn't be alone tonight."

"I'm fine!" Daryl said standing. He pointed one of his arrows in her face. "I'm done being with people. I'm sick of you people. You use me as an errand boy! I told that bitch Lori I'm done looking for people. Sophia wasn't mine! Neither is Clara! So keep an eye on her for Christ sake!" Frances watched from the ground as Daryl paced around his camp, fingers threaded through his thick hair. "Carol's the one who shouldn't be alone tonight!" He ended finally; hands landing with a slap against the side of his legs.

"She's not alone. Carl, Dale and Andrea are keeping her company. Shane and T-dog are keeping watch. The Greene's are all together. The others may be back by now and I know they have arms to return to.

Daryl's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure Carol tried her best to keep an eye on her, from what I heard it was a complete accident. I can let the others know you're not to be taken for granted. You provide good food and protection! You are a better man than you give yourself credit for," Frances placed her hands around his neck and buried her face in his collar. "You really do over extend yourself for these people, even after what happened to your brother. You've more than earned your place here. I recognize that, please don't push away."

"Just tonight, cause Clara's asleep. And I don't wanna talk about it." He relented.

Frances' mouth didn't smile, but her eyes did. She gently took him by his arm and led then into his tent. She sat the tired man down on his sleeping bag and removed his shoes. Daryl worked on the belt. Even Frances began undressing. She removed her shoes quietly along with her jeans and bra.

"Are these clean?" Frances held up a pair of his folded boxers. Daryl nodded and she slipped them on over her underwear. They were too big, but more modest than her string bikini underwear. Her clothes steadily piled in one corner of his tent. Seeing that she was going pant-less, Daryl pulled off his jeans. Black boxer briefs were his normal sleeping attire. Daryl even dared to remove his shirt. Frances had seen his scars the day she helped wash him off. He didn't have much else to hide from her, physically. He would rise before Clara so she wouldn't wake to his scared body.

Daryl unzipped his sleeping bag fully and spread it out. He and Frances lay down. They didn't need covers on such a hot night. He was on his back while she curled into his side. Clara was on the other side of Frances. She was using Daryl's pillow.

"I'm only going to say this because it needs to be said," Frances began. "I'm so sorry you found her the way you did. She deserved a better chance. I know you cared more for her than her own father, Carol told me herself. You are a brave man. You are strong and smart." Frances laid her warm hand above his heart as she complimented his strength. "Shane was not strong or smart today. He acted like a fool and put us all in danger. You are a good man." Daryl rolled on his side so to not face her. She snaked her arm around his torso and pressed her cheek against his back. "If God forbid Clara was ever in danger, or something was to happen to me, she knows to go to you. I didn't have to tell her that. We talked about it the second night we were here. She told me she likes you. She trusts you. She looks up to you. She would never be afraid of you or run away, so don't believe what Shane said earlier."

"Clara said that?" Disbelief evident in his voice.

She nodded into his back.

"Really?"

"In fact, I think she's afraid of Shane. She thinks he's going to get me killed."

Daryl rolled again onto his back.

Frances put a hand on his chest and lifted herself above his body. She pressed a solid kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Tomorrow is a new day." Frances calmly stated.

Before Daryl could react to the sudden show of affection, Clara mewed out from the darkness. Pushing herself off of Daryl's chest Frances shifted over to her little girl.

"Do I wake her?"

"She sounds like she's having a nightmare, maybe you should."

"I just hope she can fall back asleep," Frances' arm nudged and rubbed the child's shoulder and side. "Hey chickie, it's okay. You're just having a bad dream."

Clara's eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness. In a panic she threw herself into Frances' arms.

"Frannie, I'm scared! I dreamt Sophia bit me!"

She didn't know how to react. Frances chewed her bottom lip and hugged the girl tighter.

"Sophia can't bite you. She can't hurt anyone." Daryl's voice spooked Clara. She didn't know they were in his tent. Both females turned to face him. Clara examined his body. Without his layers of grime and ripped flannel Daryl looked like a regular guy. He was more muscular than she had previously thought which contrasted greatly from the beer bellies that belong to the guys in the last group and her dad. Daryl may have had an icy stare when standing over Justin the day he saved them, but right now he looked warm and inviting. She would even go as far as to say he looked shy.

"Come lay down with us." Frances eased the girl between the two adults. Clara now had a decent view of Daryl's scared body. She pointed her finger at a particularly deep mark which ran across his collar bone. "I have this one too," She softly spoke to Daryl. "See?" Her little hands lifted her "night gown" (really an oversized sleeveless shirt loaned to her by Jimmy) and exposed her tiny torso. Daryl would have felt uncomfortable, except for the fact that he was interested in what she had said. Was her body marked up too?

As the gray night gown gathered below her chin Daryl picked up on a few silver lines. The deepest one mirrored the one he had on his collar bone. "Did Justin's guys do that to you?" Anger was slightly detectable in Daryl's voice. "No. I got these from my daddy. I was only a little baby." Clara yanked down the shirt again, hiding the secret scars. Frances bit her lip; she had never asked Clara about the scars. She was afraid to bring up painful memories.

"We should all go to sleep." Frances spoke in a motherly tone. Clara snuggled in between the reluctant man and her surrogate mother. Daryl inched away from the two faintly. This was daunting for him. These two cared about him, they trusted him. And for the first time in his life these feelings were mutual. Relationships like this were a first for Daryl.


	9. Chapter 9

Daryl lay awake the entire night. He couldn't believe Sophia had been in the barn. He'd never admit it, but it broke his heart. He had wanted to find her more than anything. He thought about his brother and the unsuccessful search they had back in Atlanta. He had failed his own brother and now her.

His thoughts drifted further back to his own childhood. He had told Andrea the story. Daryl saw himself in Sophia. They shared the same abuse and neglect. The only thing that he could satisfy himself with was the fact that the girl had a mother who cared about her. Hell, the whole group cared about her. They had sent Daryl after her and he cared more than he'd like to admit. He would have gone out on his own, for weeks even. He would have tracked her until the day he brought her home.

His thoughts settled finally on the child beside him. The girl definitely had some issues before all this. It appeared her daddy wasn't present, but scars were. How can men be so cruel? Daryl had promised himself years ago to protect women by never getting in deep with one. He'd never quite liked a woman enough to call it love, and for good reason. As soon as a guy and girl got together like that, it was over for the both of them. The guy usually got so bitter and depressed he took it out on his woman. Both suffered, but mostly the lady. Daryl saw it happen with his mother, aunts, and ladies around town. He wouldn't do that to some lady, he wouldn't cause that pain. That's why he spent his life alone. He was thirty-one years old, with no wife or kids, but at least he had never raised a hand to a woman.

* * *

Frances worried about Daryl. He had definitely been internalizing his emotions, perhaps for all his life. He never spoke of his background, or brother, or made small talk. The others thought of him as the silent type, but she didn't think it fit his character. This man had more to offer the group in terms of survival than any other person, the group should be begging him to stay close and open his mouth more. Daryl's survival skills could translate to a happy life, and she whole heartedly believed he of all people deserved that. She promised herself she would get him to open up. She wouldn't force it, or make him spill all his secrets and feelings, just enough to upgrade him from the silent type to a quiet type.

Halfway through the night she could tell Daryl was still awake. His head shifted to face the sounds of the night far more than just twice. She extended her arm over Clara and curled her fingers to rest in the inside crook of his elbow. A third inked demon perched a few inches above her hand. Daryl didn't do much to react; he only let out a low huff of hot air. Knowing he was awake helped her feel safer. She soon fell asleep to the sound of crickets.

* * *

Early the next morning Daryl, Frances and Clara walked back to the house. Clara had trouble keeping up which forced Daryl to slow down considerably. Frances threw him an appreciative glance. As they entered the house, Lori blew by them. The cuts and bruises covering her body didn't go unnoticed. Clara walked off to find Carl and the two adults cornered Lori.

"Have the men returned?" Clara placed a hand on the anxious woman's shoulder.

"No not yet!" Her eyes were sunken and surrounded by cuts.

"What happened to you?"

Lori glanced at Daryl. "I guess you could say I went after my bitch and got into an accident."

"What are you talking about?" Clara studied the two. Daryl looked very concerned while Lori only looked angry.

"Yesterday after the service I asked Daryl to go get Rick, Glenn, and Hershel. He told me to go get my own bitch, and that he was done helping us. I went after them in a car and hit a walker. I had to fight two off on my own. Shane picked me up and lied to me about the men being home safe. I waited the night and I can't wait any longer. I'm going back out there for my husband and the men. We need them here."

Daryl put out his hand as she tried to break through them.

"Listen…I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just real upset about Sophia. I was working hard to find her and you called me selfish. It all just really got to me. I never thought you'd go off on your own. I figured you'd get Shane to go or something. Are you okay?" His eyes glanced down towards her abdomen. "Is the…you now, is that situation okay?"

Lori backed down. "You can say it now, Shane told everyone yesterday, even Carl. And yes I'm fine."

Daryl didn't seem convinced. "Okay well you still should have Hershel make sure, I'll leave now to bring them back."

As Daryl left Frances sat down with Lori.

"You called him selfish after everything he's been doing?"

A small tear escaped Lori's eye. "You have no idea how tough this has been for everybody. You're still new here! My husband keeps leaving and I'm pregnant. I need him here. I figured Daryl would have no problem helping."

"Daryl never has a problem helping," Frances said. "Yesterday was really tough for him too. Shane said some really hurtful things and he had been trying to bring Sophia home. He almost died trying."

"I know, I know." Lori relented. "I was just surprised when he said no. I was scared and irrational."

"You need to have a talk with Rick about him leaving when he comes back. I think we are stronger when we are united. Plus, there are others out there who aren't as good as our men here. He could stumble upon trouble in various forms." She didn't mean to scare Lori, but she did mean to inform her. "The men I met out there, they raped and murdered. They lied and plundered. The best thing to happen to me and Clara was to find you guys. Daryl did that for me, he didn't have to offer us safety, but he did. Do you know why?"

Lori shrugged her shoulders as more tears graced her face. Frances wrapped her arms around her in a supportive hug while whispering, "He did it because he hoped that if someone came across Sophia they would offer her safety. He wanted that girl to be found."

Lori hesitantly wrapped her arms around Frances. She nodded into her shoulder.

"We're lucky. We are lucky to have the group that we have." Lori confessed. "But I still want my husband here."

"Of course you do, I want him here with you too."

Lori wiped her tears before they exited the house. Everyone seemed to be eating breakfast and talking on the porch. A car came barreling down the driveway. It parked close to the group and the three men stepped out. Maggie ran passed her father and into Glenn's arms. Rick embraced Lori before questioning her ragged appearance. Daryl was worried Lori would blame him, but she only mentioned going out on her own to look for them and Shane finding her. The happy reunion was disrupted by T-Dog when he pointed at the car and asked "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Randall."


	10. Chapter 10

The group was quiet after Rick explained the situation in town. Rapidly however, Shane and Rick began arguing over what to do with Randall. Daryl entered the house awkwardly and held his own by the door. Hershel entered from a bedroom and informed the group that the boy suffered nerve damage in his leg and would be unable to walk for a week. As Hershel confronted Shane, Frances slipped over to Rick. Daryl noticed and made his way over also.

"What were the names of the men in the bar again? And what did they look like?"

"Dave and Tony. Dave was heavy with a big beard and Tony more lean. Both had an interest in women. Tony had dark hair and a wise attitude. He said they traveled a lot, pulled stakes and wandered town to town in search of supplies."

"That sounds like the group we were trapped in," Frances spoke worriedly. "But the guys you met last night don't ring a bell. There was no Dave. There was an Anthony, but no one called him Tony."

"Maybe the group picked them up?" Daryl interrupted.

Frances rubbed her temples furiously, "Oh God, do you think their group is growing? There were twelve when we escaped!"

"Daryl, Frances," Rick spoke in a hushed manor. "Can we continue this outside?" Rick led them from the Greene house and into his tent. Frances sat down on the cot while the men stood.

Rick spoke first. "Daryl I think you should interrogate Randall when he's awake. The sooner, the better. We don't want to give him any more time to come up with a story. I also don't think he should know about our women and children. Rick turned to Frances. "You need to get a good look at him and tell us if you recognize him. You also need to tell us everything you can about the men in the group when you left. I want names, heights, weights, detailed descriptions. I want to know how they operate. When they eat, what they eat. If they make supply runs. Special skills, weaponry and order of command. You need to tell us everything you know, no matter how insignificant. If they smoke a certain type of cigarette I need to know about it.

Frances felt overwhelmed. She hadn't eaten yet and could feel a massive headache coming on. She knew she would have to relive her entrapment the moment Rick had finished telling the events of the bar fight. It would be painful, embarrassing, and heartbreaking. "Can I have some water while we do this?" She asked politely. Rick tossed her a canteen before sitting on the ground. Daryl followed suit. After a mighty gulp Frances capped the canteen. She squeezed it in her hands. "Well, we had escaped the highway in Smurna and had been wandering for a few hours. I hadn't even asked Clara her name yet because the girl was still sobbing uncontrollably. I thought we were going to have to sleep in a car. I only had my knife and backpack. That's when I heard something. A man, alive, stepped out from the woods along this minor road we had been walking. He had been urinating. He smiled brightly at us and introduced himself as Justin. He offered us granola bars and bottled water from his own backpack and told us his crew had already cleaned out every car in a five mile radius. Looking back I was desperate and willing to trust. I never let a single one of them touch Clara, but there were some things I couldn't shield her from, like sounds. It was really hard to explain why women always went missing, or why she couldn't leave the tent at night. The living were just as dangerous as the dead."

The men showed a lot of support and concern. Rick rubbed her back when the story became too much to tell. Daryl gave her his clean rag to use for tissue. The whole telling took a little over an hour to relive. Shane had interrupted their meeting and joined in at a particularly difficult part to express. That was the only part in which she didn't look any of the men in the eye.

After the story was over Rick began asking follow up questions of his own. Frances felt sick. The details Rick was asking were too much to provide on an empty stomach. "Can we take a break?" Daryl asked for her. He could tell she was nearing a breaking point.

"How about fifteen minutes?" Rick offered. "That's enough for you to use a bathroom and get a snack. You can come back here after that. It can also give us more time to think of some more follow up questions."

"Sure." Frances relented. She ducked out of the tent and went into the RV. Dale was inside. "Hey Dale," She sat down at the kitchenette. "Do you have any tea?"

Dale took in her appearance. "Are you okay?" He asked while rummaging through his drawers.

"Yeah, the guys are just asking a lot about the group I came from. They're afraid Randall is one of them."

Dale pulled a tea bag and dropped it in a green mug. He then placed it in front of her with two packets of sugar. "If you want milk you're out of luck, the cows broke a fence and are running all over the property." His goofy grin was enough to make her smile.

"A packet of sugar is fine," She waited for him to return with a hot kettle. She thanked him as he poured. "What do you think of Randall?" She asked as he took a seat next to her.

"I don't think he's much of a threat right now. We need to deliberate calmly and with empathy. We brought you into our group out from theirs and you turned out to be a fine addition." Dale reached across the table to take her hand. "Randall is a child. He's probably more afraid of us than we are of him. He could be a good person. Rick saved him, why would he go against us?"

Frances didn't know how to react. She loved Dale, but he was only seeing the good side of people. He was the Frances on the highway, before she encountered Justin. "We just have to be careful. I don't want anyone to go through what I had to. This group is good. He may be a threat."

"Exactly, he may be. He may not. We don't know yet! We need to give him a chance."

Frances wanted to end this conversation before she became angry with Dale. He was one of her favorite people in the camp, beside Daryl, and acted like a grandfather to Clara. She took her mug and broke the contact with the old man. "I have to go back to Rick and the guys. They just gave me a break and I want to check in on Clara. I feel bad shoving her off on someone the entire morning."

Frances found Clara drawing in the kitchen alone. "Chickie? Why are you alone right now?"

"Beth's hurt. They told me to stay away."

Frances patted the girl on the head and glanced over her drawings. "These are really good Clara. We're going to have to ask to put these on the refrigerator. Clara smiled "Not this one though," Her hands scrambled through the loose papers to reveal a brown blob. Frances cringed, she couldn't discern which way to hold the paper, never mind what it was a drawing of. "It's a squirrel! I made it for Daryl." Frances laughed lightly, "Yes, I see! It's going to be a great gift for him! Now keep drawing and stay here. If you want to go anywhere you need to bring an adult. I'll be in Rick's tent if you need me."

Frances went to leave and encountered Andrea on the stairs. "I thought Beth was doing better? What's this I hear that she's hurt?"

"She slit her wrist." Andrea deadpanned.

"What?" Shock apparent in her voice.

"I gave her the option I never had. She wants to live now." With that Andrea rose from the steps. "I'm just never allowed in the house again."

Frances shook her head and went back to Rick's tent. She informed the three men on Beth's condition. They in turn explained the events at the CDC. Frances could understand Andrea's frustration, but couldn't agree with her actions. Rick continued the questioning for another half hour before he dismissed her for the day. He and Shane would debate Randall's fate while Daryl handled the interrogation.

Frances found Clara drawing in the living room. She lay down on the couch, her head was spinning. After a few minutes Hershel came in and covered her with a blanket. She asked about Beth and was told the teenager was doing well. The exhausting nature of the questioning had taken been taxing on her mind and she soon succumb to sleep.

A little while later Clara shook Frances into the waking world. "Can I go for a walk with Daryl?"

"Sure, if he said it's okay." She stated trying to keep her eyes shut and mind away from the real world.

"It's fine," Daryl stated. His voice came from over the back of the couch. She turned to see him in the doorway. "I was going to pick some more Cherokee Roses for Sophia's grave. The ones there now are dying in this heat."

"That's fine with me," I'm going to help with dinner now anyways. Bring back some for Beth too." She reached down to Clara and kissed her forehead. "Be safe chickie."

"I will." Clara giggled in reply.

"Be good, both of you!" Joked Frances as the front door slammed shut.


	11. Chapter 11

Together Daryl and Clara began making their way to the pond. Clara had never been this far out from camp. She was keenly observant of the new world around her. Daryl was equally observant, but not for the same things as his little companion.

When they reached the pond's edge Daryl showed her certain flowers. He had brought a glass bottle to serve as a vase. He dipped the bottle in the pond for water and poured it over his head. It was cool and refreshing for this ninety degree day. Clara stepped closer, laughing at the mess Daryl had made.

"Me too!" She yelled, pointing at the bottle.

"Come over here," He extended his hand to her. "Be careful around the edge."

Clara skipped over to Daryl's side. He poured a little water down her neck and pony-tail. She screamed at the cold jolt. "You okay?"

"Yeah! It's just cold! I like it!"

"Do you wanna jump in?" Daryl cast his arm out and over the shimmering pond.

Clara shied away. "No, I don't know how."

Daryl was shocked. "You can't swim?"

Again the girl shook her head. She worried for a second if he would pick her up and toss her in.

"You're gonna have to learn then, being a strong swimmer is real important."

Clara backed away; he was really going to throw her to her death.

As if Daryl had read her mind he quickly added, "Not today of course, you don't even have a swim suit. Maybe next time when Frances is here, and Carl too. We can always come back; Sophia will probably need flowers once a week."

Together Daryl and Clara collected enough flowers for Sophia and Beth. They sat and surveyed the wild and overgrown landscape. Daryl even caught a frog. He was mildly surprised when she asked to hold it. Back in his days, little girls were terrified of frogs, worms and all those creepy crawlers.

After a solid hour of fun Daryl decided they should head back. He would eat dinner and try to get to bed early. He had watch duty later tonight and would be interrogating Randall after him and Rick moved the boy into a tool shed. Daryl had even promised to fix the roof of the building, so their hostage couldn't escape.

Daryl stood slowly and gathered the flowers. Clara stood without complaint. She knew not to argue with Daryl even though she really didn't want to leave. She extended her hand to him. He hesitated before grasping it firmly. "Will you really bring me back here?" Clara asked.

"Sure, you gotta learn to swim."

"You'll teach me?"

"I'll try. I don't know how good of a teacher I'll be though."

Clara seemed satisfied with his answer.

"Can I have a piggy back ride?"

"A what?" Daryl was confused.

"A piggy back ride. It's when I sit on your shoulders."

Daryl thought about it. It would be dangerous if a walker showed up, but other than the ones in the barn, there hadn't been a single one on the farm. "Okay, hold this." He offered her his bottle and flowers. He leaned down and picked her up under her arm pits. When she was nice and situated she handed Sophia's flowers back to him. He used his free hand to keep her from sliding off his back.

He removed her from his shoulders when they reached the grave site. Clara watched Daryl bow his head and furrow his brow. His depressing silence lasted no longer than thirty seconds before he returned to his normal self. "Let's go. We have to put Beth's flowers in some water too."

* * *

The smell of chicken and vegetables wafted through the house. The dining room table was set and dishes filled the sink. Daryl even had to move a few in order to fill a vase for Beth's flowers. He watched Frances work while the vase filled with water. She gracefully moved about the kitchen, working on multiple dishes with ease and clarity. At one point she even moved around with Clara on her hip. She managed to hear about Clara and Daryl's day all while putting the finishing touches on dinner. It was an amazing act, even though Daryl doubted she was putting on a show. This seemed to be how she was; perhaps he was subject to view the type of person she was before the end of the world. She was strong and thoughtful, bold and compassionate. She was also incredibly attractive. Even over a hot stove her face seemed to radiate a natural beauty. Her hair was messy now, but Daryl knew it would be decently put together when the woman finally sat down for her meal.

"You two can give those to Maggie; she's going to be at Beth's side for the next few days. I know they will love them." Daryl handed the flowers to Clara. The girl ran out of the room to deliver their gift.

"Why are you doing this all alone?"

"What, dinner? Well, Beth, Maggie, and Patricia are upstairs. Lori feels nauseous around cooking meat, Andrea isn't allowed in the house, and Carol is with Dale in the RV. I think she's still depressed. Glenn has watch over Randall and T-Dog is up on the RV with Carl. But dinner must be made!"

Daryl looked at all the food. "You're amazing." He stated.

Frances blushed. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm still going to ask you to get everyone for dinner."

Daryl blushed back. He nodded while trying to exit the room.

"Daryl," Frances called him back into the hot room. She walked directly up to him. They were inches apart. Daryl couldn't look away from her brown eyes. They were clear and calm in the middle of all this chaos. She began speaking and his gaze shifted to her lips. They were turned upward at the edges and covered her full smile of slightly crooked teeth. He tried to focus on what she was saying.

"Thank you so much for taking Clara out. She had been inside all day and after Rick's questions today I was in no mood to entertain her." She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her body up against his. Daryl couldn't ignore how perfectly her body molded into his. She ended the lengthy hug with a chaste kiss on his cheek. Daryl couldn't believe it; this was twice now that she had kissed him. He liked it. Maybe he could get her to do again.

Just then Hershel entered the room. "Randall is awake." He interrupted the pair. Frances lingered close to Daryl even in the presence of Hershel. "You and Rick can transport him to the shed after dinner. I'm not using any more sedatives on him. He's used enough of our medical supplies." Hershel then noticed that the food was ready, "I'll call everyone for supper. Jimmy is going to watch Randall. Can you put a plate aside for him?"

"Of course. Tell him to be careful." Frances replied. Hershel left Daryl and Frances alone again. Wasting no time Frances handed him the platter of chicken. "Put this on that table for me, please?"

"Sure."

"You're going to finally eat dinner inside with us for once?"

Daryl thought about it. He usually ate at his camp over a small fire pit. He usually did everything on his own over his small fire pit. Glancing down at the chicken his mouth watered. This looked a lot more appetizing than squirrel a la fire pit.

"Okay, sure I'll eat with y'all."

Frances clapped her hands together like a school girl. "Awesome. Take a seat next to me!" Daryl brought the food out to the table while Frances did her best to clean the kitchen. There would be dishes but Lori said she would handle them. Patricia could help too.

Frances thought about Daryl. She laughed at the fact that he was finally going to join them for dinner. It would be good for him. She cared a lot for Daryl. He was strong and independent, but needed to feel the love people had for him. Secretly, Frances had been developing an intense liking for Daryl, and she was carefully, gradually trying to show it.

As she wiped the counters she thought about him. She admired his bravery and intelligence. She appreciated his generosity and thoughtlessness. His good looks and overall physique had not failed to catch her eye either. His arms constantly stood to impress and tease her. Each time she hugged him she longed to feel his muscled arms around her body. Her fingers enjoyed wandering his tight shoulders and thick neck. He was unlike any man she had ever had feelings for, and although she doubted she was anywhere near the beginning of a romantic relationship with Daryl, she secretly yearned to be there soon. He was protective and logical, caring and hardworking. He rarely complained and was just as good of a leader as he was a follower. Rick, Dale, Carol, T-Dog, Andrea, and Glenn all thought highly of him. She had privately conversed with Dale quite a bit about the tracker and was told that Daryl had undergone great personal growth over the short span of time the group had been together. One night during watch duty Dale had even urged Frances to pursue a romantic relationship with him. Frances derided his suggestion while hiding her true feelings. She grasped for excuses such as Clara and the Walkers as a means of downplaying such a relationship but Dale only chuckled. He gave her his typical fatherly advice before patting her knee and explaining that they could all benefit from each other. Clara could use a father figure while Daryl could use a spouse and child. Frances herself could use the loving companionship. Frances had heard a bit about Daryl's upbringing from Andrea who had also had the honor of knowing Merle. Dale insisted that Daryl be shown love and affection by people like Frances and Clara. Dale also spent time comparing Shane and Daryl. He was exceedingly worried about Andrea. The group knew something had been going on with those two and Dale didn't approve. He admitted that he believed the ex-cop was dangerous. It scared Frances the way Dale spoke of Shane, "belonging in this new world".

As the screen door slammed, Frances snapped from her thoughts. She wiped her hands and fixed herself up a bit before joining everyone for dinner. As promised, Daryl had saved her a seat next to him. He sat upright, clearly uncomfortable in the formal dining room. When he saw Frances enter, he instinctively stood and pulled out her chair. Feeling brave, Glenn poked fun at his chivalry.

Anxiousness radiated from Daryl throughout the meal. He ate near silently and at a fast pace. Frances snuck her hand atop his thigh, making him nearly chock on his water. "Enjoying the food?" She asked him.

"Uh, yeah, everything's great." He commented while staring at her hand on his lap.

"Good," she slapped his leg gently, "help yourself to as much as you want."

* * *

After dinner Rick and Daryl shackled Randall inside the shed. Glenn would serve as guard for half the night and Rick until morning. Andrea would take over after Daryl's interrogation, followed by Frances or Dale. Daryl had advised against women watching the hostage, but Andrea fought him on it. She didn't want to appear helpless or weak. Sometimes there was no use fighting with her.

Frances lingered in the house with Clara. She didn't really feel safe knowing Randall was on the property. What if he was one of the old group? What if he escaped and led them to their front door? She remained by the fire with Clara until the girl was in a deep sleep. She noted the faces of the others still gathered around. Why did no one else appear to be as frightened as she was? Was she acting weak again? She couldn't stand being weak! Rising powerfully from the camping chair, she strode confidently into her tent. "You will be fine", she encouraged herself.

Later that night Frances heard footsteps outside her tent. They were too quiet and fluid to be from a walker, but that didn't make Frances feel any safer. The footsteps grew louder and louder until they were right outside her tent. She carefully reached for her knife.

She heard a man clear his throat. Then a whisper, "Hey, you awake?" It was Daryl. She crawled closer to the door and zipped the flap half way down. He was standing in his boots and boxer briefs. A dirty wife beater and gleaming cross bow ornamented his chest. "I just wanted to say thanks for the great dinner, I'm gonna try to join the group a bit more often."

"I'm glad, Daryl. Thank you!"

She watched the corners of his lips tug into a brief smile before he started to turn away.

"Wait!" she called to him. "I have a question about Randall!" Daryl stood poised; he had no evidence of the former smile anywhere on his face. "Before you 'talk with him' can I get a look at him? To be honest I don't think I can sleep tonight unless I see who he is. I'm terrified he's one of them."

Daryl frowned. "You don't have to worry about Randall getting out. Rick and I locked him up good. We have someone on watch there now. I'm even fixing the roof tomorrow."

"I know it just sucks," Frances sighed. "We have to fear the dead and the living."

"You don't have to fear anyone here," Daryl offered. He stepped closer to her tent. "Except maybe Shane, but I'm watching him for yah."

"I feel bad for Shane. There's a lot going on between him and the Grimes' and I really think he cares about them. It must be hard seeing the person you love everyday with your best friend. Especially if she may be carrying his child. This life is hard enough; the secrets and lies must be torturing him."

Daryl didn't know how to comment on Frances' admission. Daryl had strong beliefs about being loyal to kin. He appreciated brotherhood more than he could articulate. His issue was with love. He had never felt much in his life, nor had he felt it for other people. There was Merle, of course, but after leaving him in Atlanta Daryl realized he was just as bad as his big brother. They had never really been there for each other in a loving way. They both talked a big game, but never really followed through.

Frances could see Daryl thinking. He was absentmindedly biting at his fingernails and staring at her. "What are you thinking Daryl?" She interrupted his Zen moment.

Immediately Daryl's hands fell to his side. "Just thinkin' bout Merle. Brotherhood. Shane and Rick's is falling apart, just like mine and my brothers did. Seems like everything's breaking."

Frances stared at Daryl. He was intelligent, she could tell. He had a great intuition about people, regardless of what his track record with social situations had been. "What do you think Rick should do about it?"

"About Shane?"

"Yeah," she said unzipping her tent enough for him to fit through. "But tell me in here. I don't want people listening in on our conversation. I'm not normally a gossip."

Daryl accepted her invitation after scanning the horizon. Dale was perched atop the RV and gave him a small salute. Daryl tried to ignore it as he ducked inside his brother's old tent.

"Merle's tent holding up good for you?" He whispered.

"Yes, it's a godsend. I really can't thank you enough for it."

Daryl was pleased. He had done well by offering her the shelter. "Anyways, real quick about Shane," He began again. "I just think Rick needs to open his eyes and deal with things. He's just ignoring it, which is a bad move. Rick needs to protect his woman and child. Unless Shane gets put in his place, I can't see those three shrunken heads being able to carry on playing house."

"Who do you think can put Shane in his place? He listens less and less to Rick as the days go by."

"Lori and Rick should do it together. Or Andrea could just officially lay claim."

"Daryl! I never knew you were such a 'chatty-cathy'!" She tried to suppress a giggle.

"The hell does that mean?" Daryl defended.

Frances relaxed into a smug smile. "Nothing, I just didn't know you knew so much about peoples' personal lives!"

"I ain't dumb! Besides, these people run it up the Goddamn flagpole! Glenn and Maggie pass notes in plain sight for Christ sake!"

Frances put her finger to her lips. Daryl was getting a bit loud and Clara was a foot away from him. He glanced down at the girl and pursed his lips. The two sat in silence for another minute before Frances spoke. She knew it was going to be bold, but it would make Dale proud.

"What do you notice about my personal life?"

Daryl scratched at his sideburns and beard. His hair was getting much to long for his liking. He secretly wished Merle was around so he could see the usual skin head with a mop of long hair.

Frances waited impatiently for Daryl's reply. She expected it to be funny, witty, a vulgar joke. So she was generally shocked when he replied with, "Well, you got Clara who you care the world for. You got a solid relationship with everyone on the farm, and you keep kissing me. I don't think you've been touchy like that with anyone else, just me. I ain't sure why neither. It's like your way of thankin' me or something. And that's what I observed so far."

Frances could feel her palms becoming clammy. This could get really good. Not too good, however, Clara was sleeping in the same space as them. She decided to add some gasoline to the fire. "Wanna know what I've noticed about you?"

Now Daryl was in the hot seat. He played it cool and shrugged his shoulders.

"I noticed that you are respected and cared for by everyone in the group, but you don't realize it. You are selfless and kind. You are trustworthy and honorable," She emphasized that last part before dropping her tone an octave lower. "You're a guy with a lot of love to show but you won't do it. I don't know why though; I keep giving you opportunities." With that Frances bit her lip. She couldn't believe her audacity. She worried if she was making a fool of herself. Was she emotionally ready to handle the potential consequences of her flirting? Daryl had only recently brought them back to camp, she still had nightmares about the old group.

Before any thought could really collect weight in her mind Daryl lurched toward her. His left hand cupped the side of her face while his right settled gently upon her ribcage. He kissed her fully on the mouth. Frances responded, which encouraged Daryl to tighten his grip upon her side. Instinctively they leaned into each other. Frances' hands groped his chest as her nails racked his tattered wife beater. She moaned quietly as her hand tangled in the back of his choppy hair.

Just as Daryl's tongue entered her mouth Clara shuffled. Daryl tore away from Frances in a shameful fit. After making sure the young girl remained sleeping he stood to exit the tent. Frances fixed her hair and adjusted the ruffled blankets.

"I gotta go, that ain't right. What if she woke up? How would we explain that to her?"

Frances glanced at Clara and understood his concern. She nodded and bid him good night. He promosed to wake her tomorrow to get that look at Randall before Daryl conducted his questioning.

"G'night," Daryl spoke into her eyes. He was being shy again. He glanced down at the dirt and toed at a few rocks. "You're gonna give me some more opportunities, right?"

It took a second for his question to click. When it did she smiled and meagerly tossed her dirty hair suggestively over her shoulder. It made Daryl smirk. "Only if you plan on taking advantage."


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning Daryl was all business. Frances had already placed Clara in Dale's care and met up with Rick. Daryl joined in as Rick finished laying down the ground rules. Randall was to be blindfolded while she examined him. She was not allowed to talk, but if she had questions she could relay them through Daryl. Shane, Rick and Daryl had developed a list of questions Daryl was to ask. Rick left the technical and tactical stuff to Daryl. It was probably his only chance the ex-cop wouldn't stop him from throwing a few punches.

Together Frances and Daryl made their way to the barn. Frances' feet felt heavier with each approaching step. She sidled up to Daryl, which didn't go unnoticed by the tracker. They were close enough to the shed to hear the shackles clink.

Daryl's calloused hand steadied her to the side of the shed where she was still facing the farm. He had to make sure Randall couldn't see her. Daryl handed her a gun before going inside. The metal on the grip was cool in her hand. It scared her how comfortably it fit in her grasp. She had been getting better at shooting, and would probably have been just as good as Andrea if she hadn't quit partaking in Shane's lessons. A striking blow could be heard from inside. Frances cringed at the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"Shut up!" she heard Daryl instruct the boy. "Sit still!"

Just then the door swung open. Daryl stepped out wiping his hand on the rag from his back pocket. He threw her a look which asked "Are you coming?" She quietly secured the gun in the back waistband of her jeans. Once inside she moved with stealth that Daryl's tracker instincts admired, the floor barely creaked as she examined Randall from all angles. It was hard to get a full image of him, the boy had his eyes covered and he was shaking furiously. His head moved in all directions. As she inched closer a hand tugged her back. She jumped, and turned to see Daryl's hard look. She had gotten too close for his liking.

After five minutes of intense scrutiny she shook her head. She had never seen this boy before. He was at least ten years younger than her, his whiny voice proved it. Daryl had warned him twice about shutting up. He didn't want to have to hit him in front of Frances, but he would if need be. He warned Randall that there'd be a time when he'd want the boy to talk, and it wasn't now.

Daryl held the door for Frances as she stepped out. He secured it behind him and the two walked far enough away to discuss Frances' findings. "I've never seen him before." She admitted. "Doesn't mean he isn't part of them. He could have joined the night you took off."

"I know," Frances said fiddling with her shirt sleeve. "Hopefully you find that out."

Daryl cracked his knuckles before nodding. The sound made Frances look away in disgust. She grabbed his hand to make the cracking stop. "I'm headed back. Let me know how it goes. And please be careful."

Daryl hoped she'd kiss him before leaving, but instead she simply walked away. Perhaps it was selfish for him to expect that from her; after all she was just face to face with someone who was potentially part of a group that raped her. It had to have been difficult for her to see him. With a sudden fury Daryl entered the shed. He hadn't lost his temper in a long time. Since, Sophia actually.

"Please, man!" Randall kept repeating. "C'mon man, please don't hurt me!"

Daryl removed the cloth from across his eyes. Were these the eyes of a rapist? He was determined to find out. He knew there were certain questions Rick needed answered, but he had a few of his own. He couldn't decide which took precedence.

* * *

Daryl returned to camp with bloody knuckles. Carol was visibly upset with him. Frances knew it had to be done. Daryl confirmed her worst nightmare. If his group rolled up, the men would be dead and the women would wish they were. Daryl even mentioned that Randall's group was thirty men deep. They had more than doubled since her escape. Frances focused on her breathing. She needed to find Clara. The girl had gone with Carl and Jimmy to feed the chickens. She didn't stick around to hear the rest of Daryl's findings.

It had been decided that they would leave Randall eighteen miles out. They would leave him a knife and the clothes on his back, nothing more. Daryl was uncomfortable with it, Frances was also. As much as she hated the idea of ending his life, it seemed like the safest option.

Frances approached Daryl before they were leaving. "Are you going too?" She inquired.

"No, I'm staying back here. This is something Rick and Shane need to handle." Daryl made it sound like he was talking about more than just Randall. Frances pressed her head into the crook of his neck. "Good, I don't want you leaving."

Daryl slowly wrapped his arm around her waist all while making sure no one was around to witness their interaction. He liked having someone openly care for him. It was a new and welcomed feeling.

Later that night Rick, Shane and Randall arrived back at the Greene's. They looked like hell. Something had happened, a dynamic had changed. The survivors retired to their tents without a formal dinner. Many slipped away with not so much as a good night. An impending meeting would be held tomorrow concerning the hostage in which everyone would be present. No one was looking forward to it.

That night Dale and Frances served a watch shift together. Dale had been emotional and talkative while Frances remained sullen and withdrawn. They had opposing views concerning the fate of Randall. Frances was grateful for the darkness, it helped shadow Dale's disappointed gaze.

When her shift ended she was greeted by Daryl at the foot of the RV ladder. He wasn't serving a shift for a few hours, and had simply felt like walking her to her tent. He knew she was upset, but he didn't press it. Instead, she opened up to him. "Dale and I are arguing," Her voice was low. "Am I a bad person for wanting Randall dead?"

Daryl knew what to say to her, but he was shocked. No one ever confided in him, or sought him out for advice. Yet here she was, beautiful and kind and concerned, asking for his opinion of her character. He, a Dixon, should be the last to judge someone.

"You want to feel safe. You already gave people a chance and that turned out to be a mistake. You trusted again with me-with us- and it wasn't. I think you give people a fair chance. You have yourself and your girl to look out for. Randall's a threat. You wanting to eliminate the threat doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you a good…protector." He had wanted to say mother, but didn't think it was exactly the right word to use.

"Thanks Daryl. You're the best protector I know." She gave him another hug. Hugs were becoming normal for them, and she liked it. Based off of the way his arms lingered on her, he enjoyed them also.


	13. Chapter 13

"Can we go swimming today?" Clara asked over her scrambled eggs.

Carl's eyes grew large at the small girl's request.

"Swimming?" Frances wondered where the idea had come from.

"Yeah, by the flowers." Clara pointed beyond the boundary of the farm. "It's where Daryl took me a few days ago. He said we would go back and he'd teach me to swim!"

"You don't know how to swim?"

Clara shook her head and continued begging. "Daryl said we would go back and you can come too!"

"I want to go too!" Added Carl.

"We have to talk to Daryl first and see what is in store for the day. Clara, you don't even have a bathing suit."

Clara's expression clearly showed her disappointment.

Frances tapped her fork to the edge of Clara's plate. "You need to finish breakfast if you want to do anything today."

Lori smiled. She was listening to the conversation from afar. Another bout of morning sickness threatened to ruin her breakfast. Frances was doing well as a surrogate mother. She was hoping it would come in handy when the baby came, she didn't expect much help from Andrea.

Knowing Lori was in pain Frances took the children around the barn and through the fields. It would be a nice, relaxing, long walk. Unfortunately, when they finally returned to the porch, trouble was brewing.

Dale had just stormed off leaving Rick alone. He looked distressed. Carl called over to his father. "Dad? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Carl." Rick somewhat dismissed the boy and turned away. Frances bent down to the children's level. "Why don't you guys go play, just please stay close. The cows are out and about and the Greene family is really worried. We don't need to be getting in the way of their search."

Carl looked angry, and Clara bored. Frances sighed before catching up with Rick. She knew Dale had upset him.

"What's wrong?" Frances questioned.

"It's Randall." Rick looked exhausted.

"It's not all on you. Our talk today should help. It's going to give Dale the chance to speak his mind or plead his case and then you can do what needs to be done."

"You don't agree with Dale?" Rick questioned.

"I agree with keeping us safe."

* * *

The meeting didn't go well. Dale had broken down during his speech and no one had come to his aid. It hurt to stay silent while the man poured his heart out. But Frances knew the other side of the argument. Abandoning Randall could lead to an ambush, a walker attack, or worse. She didn't want to see their men risking their lives any more than they had too. Dale had left in an angry huff, agreeing with Daryl that the group was broken. Frances would have to ask him about that later.

Frances had to run to catch up with Daryl. He had been half-way to his camp before he finally acknowledged her behind him. "We're broken? What makes you think that?"

Daryl turned sharply. Clearly something had been going on that she was unaware of. "They should just kill that kid and get it over with! Rick needs to open his eyes. He's not a dumb guy. This whole thing is going to get me killed! It's going to get you or Clara killed. This group is broken!"

"We are taking care of Randall tonight." Frances spoke calmly. "You're right. I think Rick does recognize that, he's just trying to appease everyone. You should have said something at the meeting if you were this pent up. You have important things to say, and I know you're not a dumb guy either."

"Ain't nobody lookin' at me for my opinion. Especially Rick. He only looks to Shane. The guy's a murderer, total looney. I've had it with this group. I should be off with Merle. Not being laughed at by this messed up crew." Daryl spoke bitterly.

"Nobody's laughing at you." Frances leaned close to his face. "Do you really think that?"

Daryl stared at his boots. This is why he didn't like talking about his thoughts and feelings.

Frances moved to sweep his long hair off of his forehead. The grease and dirt that perpetually coated him smudged under her fingers.

"I'm always looking to you, so does Carol and Dale. And don't you notice Glenn? He tries to emulate you. And don't get me started on Clara. She loves you. She asked me if you could take her swimming today. And the other day she drew a picture of a squirrel for you. If you spent some time in the house you'd see it on the fridge." Frances didn't stop there; it really hurt her to find that Daryl had been bottling so much self-detriment. "Besides, we all know Shane's on the brink. I think the only one blind to that is Andrea for God sake. Even Clara knows he's imbalanced!" Frances crossed her arms showing her eagerness to deliver her final opinion. "Also, if you ever leave this group, I'd kill you myself. This is a good group and you are a good man. You belong here. So if you ever have these crazy thoughts again, I want you to bounce them off me instead of keeping them locked up."

"The only thing that would happen if I left is that you'd all starve."

It was upsetting to hear, but at least he was letting it out.

"You are worth so much more than that! Can you really not see it?" She was frustrated now. How many compliments would it take to wake him up? "Everyone in this group only has good things to say about you. You are loved here. Everyone looks to you from time to time. You just don't realize it because people don't have to ask. You feed us. You protect us. You keep out of the drama and try to keep peace. You let people think and act for themselves. You are impeccable with your loyalty."

"I wasn't even loyal to my own kin!"

"You went back for him! He left you. You took his goddamn hand with you!"

Daryl didn't know how she knew all this; she really was friends with everyone. Or maybe everyone really enjoyed talking about him behind his back.

"You looked for their little girl…" Frances voice broke. "You attended her funeral even when her own mother wouldn't."

A tear fell down her cheek and into the green pasture at her feet.

"You held my hand through that. You go above and beyond for these people and they know it. They appreciate it. They know you will do all these great things and more. Maybe the reason you truly think people don't look to you is because they don't have to ask you. You just do! You know what's right and you go and do it."

Daryl had never heard so many nice things said about him in his entire life, never mind a single conversation. He felt bad that Frances had become so upset over it.

"I ain't gonna be bouncing any thoughts off you if it gets you like this." Daryl wiped gently at her remaining tears. "I guess I ain't used to this. The group dyanamic, the leadership. Hell I ain't ever had anyone rely on me, except whenever Merle needed bail.

Frances didn't appreciate his attempt at humor. She was worried for him.

"I just hope my tears can give you a little insight into how much you mean to me-and us as a group. I'm sure Rick's stressed. He just needs to keep Shane close because he's a hot head and they have history together. Maybe he's not ready to accept that his deputy has gone off the deep end." Frances sniffed. Daryl handed her his rag.

"It's clean."

"It won't be any longer," She blew her nose.

Daryl felt awful at how upset she had become. Crying women were the worst. They had to be up there with poison ivy and Merle on a bender.

"I'd rather not go back to camp looking like I've been crying, can I stay out here for a bit?"

"Free country." Daryl waited for her to join him at his fire pit. She sat quietly as he surveyed his string of squirrels.

"You know," Daryl began. "Part of the reason I keep out here is because of these." He shook a hanging carcass. "The smell could attract other animals or walkers. Didn't want to bring something like that too close. Also, the smell on its own is pretty unpleasant. Even though I'm probably used to it."

Frances smiled at his thoughtfulness. She was also pleased that he was opening up and talking with her.

"You wanna know another reason why I stay put out here?" Daryl sounded shy, which made her eager to know why. "You can see the stars better at night. It's peaceful."

"That's sweet Daryl." Frances crossed her legs. "This whole time I thought it was so no one could hear you shagging anyone way out here."

Daryl blushed furiously. "Ain't shaggin' anyone at the moment. The end of the world kinda got in the way of that. Been busy trying to survive." He muttered.

Frances prided herself in making him blush. He had a hard time looking her in the eye after that.

"Do I still look like I've been crying?" Frances asked.

Daryl stepped close to get a good look. The red puffy appearance had finally disappeared.

"No, you're good."

Frances wiped her hands on her jeans. She placed his now dirty rag into his pile of dirty laundry and promised to help him clean it later. She really needed to find Clara, she and Carl had been off together all day.

"Hey Frances," Daryl called to her.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe some night you can sleep out here again. I can point out those stars to you."

"I'd love to see some stars." She hoped her double entendre had not gone unnoticed.

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck after she was gone. He was a smart guy, he got it.


	14. Chapter 14

Frances felt her entire body turn red as she entered camp. Why did she feel like everyone had just overheard her flirting? Andrea was seated on top of the RV, rifle in hand. Frances called up to her and asked where Clara was.

"She and Carl are together, I think they're just playing. They may be in the barn with a deck of cards." Frances was pleased that they were getting along so well. They were good kids, she felt like she didn't need to be standing over their shoulders every second.

"Wanna come up here? I've been alone this whole time; I'd enjoy some good conversation." Andrea offered.

Frances accepted. This was a rare time when Andrea wanted company. Usually she was busy trying to avoid everyone or practicing taking apart and putting together her gun.

When the two women were situated Andrea asked the question. Frances could sense it coming, but she didn't expect her to be so forward about it.

"Are you and Dixon fucking?"

The answer was clearly no, but in her mind it was a bit more complicated than that. In the time it took her to gather her thoughts, Andrea reformed her question.

"Are you trying to fuck him?"

"Andrea!" Frances hushed. She had no idea who could be in the RV below them and she didn't think Daryl would appreciate hearing a relay of this conversation through everyone in the camp.

"'Cause it is okay if you are, you two get along well enough."

Frances became incredibly uncomfortable. How dare Andrea come right out like that! Especially considering that fact that no one was poking their nose into her sex-life. Frances didn't speak for a few minutes. She was thinking about Andrea's question. Was she trying to get with Daryl? Would she be ready to do something like that? Would he? What would be the consequences of something like that?

"Andrea," Frances asked. "Can we talk?"

Andrea sat a little straighter. She could see the discomfort in Frances body language.

"Go ahead."

"Well, you said you had some experience defending women like me…"

"Did Dixon..?" Andrea lurched forward, the gun like an extension of her arm.

"No! He would never! Just let me finish!"

Andrea settled back in her chair. "Are you sure you want to talk about this here?"

"It's as good a place as any. Besides, this has been bothering me since it all happened."

Andrea put her rifle down. "This is going to be serious, I can tell. Let's have someone else take watch so we can really talk."

After convincing T-Dog to take watch the two women headed down to a large Oak tree. They sat in its shade and peacefully observed the landscape.

"I really like Daryl." Frances began. "I was actually kind of flirting with him when I came over here. But I don't know. He's complicated and so am I."

"You're not that complicated." Andrea encouraged. "If you have an urge just go for it. We're all human, luckily."

"Not everyone." Frances bite solemnly.

Andrea blinked.

"Can I tell you about what happened to me? About my time spent with the group we think Randall is from?"

"It's up to you. If you want to open up I'm here for you." The squeeze on Frances shoulder meant more than she could explain. Both women leaned back into the bark of the tree and Frances began her story. Andrea sat ready to console her if she needed it.

"So Justin brings us back to his camp and I notice right away that there are no women around. They are all in tents or cars. Some are looking at me with the scariest expressions imaginable. I tried to tell myself that it was because of the walkers, they were just scared. I could hear two women crying and this couple having sex. Then we enter this tent. It's dirty and there are bugs and leaves everywhere! Old food littered the floor; I told Clara to keep her shoes on so she wouldn't cut her feet on broken beer bottles and opened cans of beans. Not like it mattered, they stole them off our feet that first night…"

Frances clutched her hands together and continued.

"Then Justin made a pass at me, right in front of Clara. He starts saying that we were lucky to have been offered the safety. He starts saying I owe him. I tried to play it off by saying I wouldn't leave Clara unattended in a camp of men I didn't know; I thought it worked too! Justin left but five minutes later he came back with this woman. She was tall with dark skin. Her body was covered in bruises and her face had been beat so badly her eyes were swollen shut. It was horrifying. Justin told me that she would watch Clara while I paid him back for saving us…"

Frances grimaced at the memory of him pinching Clara's cheek before he took her away.

"I tried to convince myself it wasn't what it was. I tried to justify it, because he really did save us. But the second time, and the third- by the fifth time I knew I had to escape."

Andrea was horrified.

"They killed one woman for trying to escape a few days after we arrived. I told Clara the poor lady had been bit by a walker."

Frances started crying and Andrea rubbed her back.

"I hurt so badly. My legs were always sore and by back ached. He was so violent." Frances remembered the way his hands had roamed her body and she felt her stomach turn. The memory of him pulling sharply on her hair or slapping her face was enough to make her nauseous.

"It was so awful. He got away with it seven times. It would have been eight if not for Daryl. He literally ripped Justin off of me. Justin would have done it to Clara too."

"Did the men there hurt Clara at all?"

"No. I always offered myself in place of her. They used her to threaten me. Said they would rape her and leave her for the lame-brains."

Andrea shuttered. Frances was trustworthy and brave. They really were lucky to have the men and women they did in their group.

"So what's this have to do with Daryl?" Andrea was trying to figure out how to help the weeping woman.

"I don't know if I'm ready to put myself out there again. I try to hug and kiss him but I don't know about actually going further than that. What if he thinks I'm disgusting for having been used by those men?" Frances fears were pouring out of her. "What if he doesn't share the same feelings I have for him? What about Clara? What if we try something and it doesn't work out? I'm trying to figure all this out and meanwhile the world has ended! We could all die tomorrow!"

In a fit of blubbering frustration Frances knocked the back of her head against the rough bark of the Oak. Andrea protectively consumed her in a giant hug.

"I think Daryl really likes you, and I think he likes Clara too. He's a good guy. Maybe you two should spend more time together without Clara. The other women and I can always watch her for you. And as for whether he'll like you even though you've gone through some awful stuff, non-sense, Daryl isn't like that. I can tell. I've witnessed rape victims retain healthy relationships with their boyfriends, or husbands. I know what type of guy it takes, Daryl's it. He's a genuine person." Andrea smirked as she spoke so highly of the redneck. "He's got layers too and I'm sure deep down he's scared shit of you not liking him!"

Frances hugged Andrea back. This was the most female bonding she had even done. She had grown up in a house with three brothers and a sick mother. Her father had always been too depressed to take care of the house and children, and became a bit of a recluse when her mother finally did pass on. Frances had been very bitter about the entire situation. It left her to care for three younger brothers, a house and a grown man. She ended up dropping out of college after one semester when she was informed by police that her youngest brother had been caught shoplifting from a supermarket. She was furious with him, but even more pissed that their father couldn't find the strength to work and take care of the rest of the family.

It was getting late and Dale was steadily approaching them from a far. He looked distraught. His rifle lay over his shoulder. "Are you upset too?"

"We're just having girl-talk Dale," Andrea called. "Don't worry."

Dale sat down beside them, "Frances?" He reached out to cup under her chin. Her face was red from crying but the tears had recently stopped.

"Yes, we were just talking about Daryl. I think I may take your advice." Dale smiled as he recalled the night he mentioned Daryl as a potential suitor.

"Frances and our resident bow hunter?" He spoke light heartedly. "I don't see why you'd be crying about that!"

"Well," Frances hesitated. "I was just sharing with Andrea my apprehension to pursue a relationship because of what happened to me before I got here. I'm hoping Daryl would want to be with somebody like me…" She trailed off before she started crying again.

"Daryl is a decent man. I told him that earlier today in fact. You are a decent woman. Decent people belong together." Dale looked up at Andrea. "I just wish everyone could see that."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Okay Dale we get it, you don't like Shane."

"I won't argue with you," He spoke standing. "I just can't stand for the things he does and has done…" Dale trailed off muttering about Otis and Randall. Luckily, Andrea seemed to miss it.

Andrea slowly pulled Frances to her feet. "We should get back, I bet Clara is looking for you and the guys are taking care of Randall any minute now."

Frances agreed. She didn't want to be wandering the farm at night anyways. "Dale, are you coming in with us?" Frances called to the distraught man.

"No! I told you I won't be a part of that! I'm not letting this world drag me down. I refuse."

Frances looked thoughtfully at the man. He was old and stuck in his ways. His wisdom and grace would have been a Godsend in the old world, but now, Frances thought he was too risky. She saw a bit of herself in him, or maybe she wished she did.

"Well head back soon. It's too dark to be out here alone." Andrea called to him.

"I just need a moment to myself. I won't be a part of what's happening back there."

Andrea shrugged. She knew Dale, and he was forgiving. He'd come back to camp and take one look at Carl and Clara and know Randall's execution was to protect them. He just needed time.

The light from the camp's fire grew brighter as they neared the section of survivors. Frances whispered a quick but heartfelt thank you to the former civil rights attorney before taking residence next to Lori. She had one hand on her stomach. Clara lay next to her on the ground. She looked unsettled.

"Hey chickie. Everything okay?"

Frances' voice seemed to draw the girl out of deep and disturbed thought. She jumped up and buried her head into her torso. Her little hands knotted in her baggy shirt.

"Stay with me!" Clara whined. "Please don't ever leave for the whole day again!"

Frances was understanding, she had left her and Carl to themselves for most of the day.

"I'm sorry, I won't do that again. I just thought you and Carl were having fun."

"No! Today was not fun!"

Frances scooped the girl into her arms and sat half way around the fire, across from Lori. Carl was nowhere to be found; perhaps the two had gotten into some argument.

"Why was today not fun?"

Frances waited for a response. After a few seconds of Clara staring at the fire, the woman jostled the younger girl. "Are you okay? I'd like to know why today wasn't fun, you've got me nervous."

Her eyes wouldn't leave the fire. "Because we got yelled at."

"Who got yelled at?"

"Me and Carl."

"And why did you get yelled at?"

Frances could think of a plethora of reasons if this had been any other child, but this was Clara. And Carl was a good kid too. She was confused.

"Because we went into the shed with Randall. Shane came in really angry. He yelled a lot and scared me. He put his gun in Randall's mouth." Frances didn't know how to handle the situation. Clearly the young pair shouldn't have been in the shed. Maybe Shane's freak out would be a good thing, even if Randall was probably dead by now, at least the girl would think twice about visiting strangers. She needed to support Shane on this one, but also be clear that the adults were only reprimanding because they were concerned, not angry. She could talk to Shane later about his excessive gun usage in front of the kids.

"Shane was probably just nervous. Randall is a very dangerous person. You should not have been anywhere near him. What Shane did was out of concern for you; the adults here care about you and want to protect you. You have to obey their orders so you can be safe."

Clara nodded. Frances was thankful the girl didn't start crying. She had had enough crying for one day. She wanted to see the men return safe and sound and be able to sleep a bit more comfortably knowing Randall was no longer a threat.

"Andrea is nice. She stopped Shane. She told us to go have fun while she talked with Shane. He was still really mad though."

"Andrea is nice, she's like an Auntie. Her and I had a nice talk today too."

"What did you guys talk about?"

"Grown up stuff," Frances huffed. "Extremely boring."

Frances laughed when Clara wrinkled her nose.

"Am I going to get to be a grown up?"

Frances paused. This would have been an easy question in the past. Now it was like asking about the meaning of life.

"Will I be old like you, like Dale?"

Frances wasn't sure if she herself would ever be as old as Dale. It would definitely be an uphill battle. Walkers, illness, and food would all be an issue. With lack of so many proper aids like medicine and shelter Frances wasn't sure. She needed to be reassuring though. No one wants to be told they're going to die young.

Clara's eyes were focused intensely on Frances. The fire's reflection whipped and crossed through the brown and white of her large shinny eyes. Before Frances could deliver her reassurance, Carl and Rick lumbered into camp. Immediately Clara reached for Frances. The two children looked at each other before Clara buried her head into Frances' shoulder. Rick announced that he hadn't killed Randall. They would have to find another way to deal with the young adult.

Andrea stood proudly, going to look for Dale. Frances hugged Clara closer. She was angry with Rick. They were in danger, no different from when the barn threatened the group. Why hadn't Daryl or Shane just killed the guy? She was going to ask Daryl what had happened. Maybe she'd ask him to stay in their tent, just to feel a bit safer.

Suddenly, a loud cry broke the silence of the night. Everyone jumped to attention. Was that Shane and Daryl killing Randall? Surely they would have heard a gunshot instead of whatever that noise was. As the group moved toward the noise Andrea's body began to shake erratically.

"Where's Dale?"

The chaos was overwhelming. Everyone ran from the camp and into the fields. Daryl could be seen in the middle of a dark shadowy pasture, a dark mass at his feet. The smell of blood heavily permeated through the air and as the group ran closer the smell only grew stronger. The scene was bloody and horrific. Dale lay on the grass his torso completely gutted by the hands of a walker which now lay truly dead only a few feet away. A massacred cow also lay in the backdrop, another victim of the geeks.

France wished Clara and her had stayed at the camp sight. Why had she so thoughtlessly followed the others? She knew certain danger would entail. She looked quickly to Lori taking motherly cues on how to handle Clara. The lanky woman stood far back while hugging Carl close. Frances couldn't see his face but by the vibrant shaking of his body Frances knew he had seen Dale. Strangely enough Clara remained quiet. The light cast off the moon reflected the twin streaks of tears which races toward her chin. Her bottom lip quivered with awful fear. Frances scooped up the girl and stepped away from the sight. It seemed that Rick and Hershel were fighting, although Frances had not been able to make out what they were fighting over. Her mind was thick, her ears were full of wax. Her mind couldn't work fast enough to analyze the scene.

Clara wouldn't look away. Her eyes remained tight and focused on Dale. She wanted to hold his hand. She fought Frances' tight grip and slowly slid to the floor. She inched closer and closer to Dale.

"He's suffering!" Andrea cried.

Clara was only a few feet away before Rick motioned with his gun. Clara froze, but continued forward when Rick faltered. She was only a few feet away before Daryl suddenly cut her off.

Daryl mumbled a quick apology before ending Dale's misery. The bang of the gun frightened Clara, making her fall to the grass in a small bundle. Andrea cried hard, and Daryl only turned to shoo Clara back into Frances' waiting arms. Daryl and Clara reached Frances at the same time.

"Women and children back to the farm. Don't know if this is the only bastard wandering around here." Clara hid behind Frances. Daryl nodded at Lori who acknowledged his demand. Daryl picked up his gun and glanced around the perimeter. Frances continued to stare at Dale. Andrea still sobbed over his body. Daryl's hot breath pulled her back into reality.

"I said get back to the farm! Why'd you bring her anyways?" Daryl pointed sharply at Clara who had now begun crying loudly. "That crying is gonna bring more of them down here if anything!"

Daryl leaned around, he towered over little Clara. "Shut up!" He yelled at her. He then turned back to Andrea. "You shut it too! He's gone and we ain't safe! Shut up!"

Lori stood quickly and moved to sized herself up in front of Daryl. "Daryl Dixon you shut up! Get the hell away from here! I mean it!"

Everyone noticed Daryl calm immediately. He turned to examine everyone's faces. Grief and heartache hung heavily in the metallic scent of the air. "Fine I'll go and check the grounds. Make sure no one else ends up killed tonight!" Daryl picked up his weapons and left in a huff. Rick stood from his kneeling position and settled a hand upon Shane's shoulder. "Go with him. That was a hard thing to do; I think he's just upset like the rest of us."

For once Shane silently followed Rick's order.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a few hours later before Clara had finally fallen asleep. The young girl had asked so many questions and shed so many tears. Frances had given up and pleaded with the child to sleep. She promised to talk with her about it all tomorrow when things calmed down and she could provide better answers. It was a few hours after that when Daryl appeared at her tent. He still smelled like blood and looked a ragged mess. Frances met his gaze through the mesh tent flap. She scooted closer until they were only inches apart yet didn't make a move to let him enter. She silently waited for him to speak. He had come to her; he clearly had something to say. Frances hoped it was an apology.

"I'm real sorry." Daryl admitted shamefully. His tired eyes couldn't hold hers and he kept glancing toward the ground. "Lost my temper back there. I don't want to see us lose anyone. Not again. Not anymore."

Frances wanted to unzip the flap but she was still mad, Daryl still needed to apologize to Clara and Andrea.

"Merle was basically our first loss. I'll have you know it don't get any easier."

Daryl rubbed his aching hands.

"I helped Andrea with Dale's body. Shane and I started and finished digging a grave after we swept the area. I apologized to everyone, individually."

Frances physically couldn't cry anymore. Her head was heavy and her heart pained.

"I gotta apologize to Clara."

Frances' eyes passed over the slumbering girl.

"She's asleep right now and I'm not waking her until she does on her own."

Daryl's shoulder slumped. "I guess I'll come back in the morning?"

The two paused. Frances knew Rick was right. Daryl had shouldered arguably the biggest burden to date, along with many others before this. Her hands moved to the zipper of the tent door.

"Or," She gathered her courage. "You can be here in the morning."

The tent gaped wide enough for his body to fit through but he didn't move.

"C'mon, no need to have to come back. Just stay."

Daryl didn't expect this. He hadn't even expected her to talk to him after his outburst at Clara. Daryl glanced down at his filthy clothes and then at her clean linen. Frances read his mind.

"Change and come back. I don't think I can sleep tonight unless I have you in here. I'm scared." She even added a small please. Daryl nodded and made way for his camp sight. He was glad he had done some laundry the day before. He heard Frances call for him to be careful before he left the sphere of the relative safety which the camp provided. He returned with linen of his own, a crumpled pillow tucked under one muscular arm. Cross bow, pistol, and knife still remained on his person.

"Y'all don't have enough blankets. It's getting colder at night." He spread one blanket on the ground and threw two at Frances. "One's for your girl," he pointed. "She's shaking like a leaf."

"I can't tell if it's from the weather or from Dale. I promised her we'd talk tomorrow about everything that happened tonight. I don't think my mind is functioning well enough right now for a task like that."

Daryl laid down and put his hands under his head. "She gonna hate me? I ain't ever yelled at her before, ain't ever yelled at a kid like that before actually. I guess my dad came out in me."

Frances grazed his elbow with her slender fingers. "You were keyed up. That was a crazy situation and you were the only one with enough right mind to handle it. Don't worry, she'll forgive you."

Daryl bit his lip. He hoped she was right. "She gonna be scared if she wakes up with me in here?"

Daryl was a sensitive guy. Frances thought about Dale and their conversations about the bow hunter. She wanted to show him she cared.

"I've told you a thousand times," Frances slunk down next to him, her body taking form against his. "She likes you. You protect her. She's got nothing to be afraid of when it comes to you and the rest of the group here."

"I just can't believe it. It all happened so fast. Randall and then Carl, Rick couldn't do it. Then I'm hanging him back in the shed when I hear Dale. I was just about ready to kill Randall myself." Daryl stared intently at Frances. His eyes wandered over her whole body until his gaze shifted to Clara. "I won't take that risk. I refuse to feed and guard that stupid threat! I'm giving him the food that should be filling her and keeping her healthy." Daryl pointed at the little lump under his blanket. "How can't Rick see that? He's got a wife and kid!"

Daryl stopped abruptly. His voice had been low and calm and despite the abrupt end to his speech his voice fell gracefully into the earth's silence. He hoped that last part didn't make Frances uncomfortable. He didn't think of her or Clara the same way Rick thought of Lori and Carl, at least he tried not to admit it. He also didn't think Clara looked to him for a father figure. He had no idea how to be a father. Daryl hadn't had a father, he had had a dad. Dads yell and fight, drink and become violent. Dad's drive mothers away and ruin households. Fathers do much more positive and loving things. Daryl didn't have the slightest clue what that line of duty entailed but he was sure they did things like placed catch, showed love, taught their kids how to do things, took them out and made fun memories. Daryl's thoughts drifted to the blanket he had provided Clara with, then to their fun at the pond. He really did intend on teaching her how to swim. His hand slowly made its way into his back pocket. Frances watched keenly from his side. Daryl carefully fished a piece of paper out of his dirty pants and brought it to the moonlight. He carefully unfolded the paper and revealed it to Frances.

"I took it from the fridge today. I figured I'd keep it in my tent. Make sure she knew that I had it. I was planning on thanking her for it earlier." Frances eyed the drawing in Daryl's calloused hands. It actually did look a bit like a squirrel in the light of the night. Daryl folded it back up quickly and took off his boots. He stuck the paper inside his shoe and moved closer to both females. Frances threw her arm lazily over his chest and hugged him close.

"When do you have to be up?"

"When I feel like it. The other guys are going to take care of watch duty tonight. I'm supposed to rest, per order of officer Grimes. But around mid-morning we plan on going out and securing the property. Make sure this really does never happen again."

"You deserve some rest."

"This ain't a time for rest. More now than ever we need to be alert and focused. I'm ready to get out there right now. I'm itching to take out some geeks."

Frances followed his sharp jaw line as he spoke. She noted the way his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted as he mentioned the walkers. Stubble coated his face and jaw. She wondered if this was how Daryl appeared before the world imploded. He was ruggedly handsome. She just wished she could see him after a shower, clean and relaxed. There didn't seem to be anything much better than when he truly smiled.

Frances drifted off to sleep with the help of Daryl's steady breathing. He had stayed up most of the night, thinking desperately of ways to apologize to the little girl at his side. Shortly before sunrise he finally succumbed to his extreme exhaustion.


	16. Chapter 16

Clara woke Frances with a soft whisper.

"Do you know Daryl is in here?"

Frances turned over, effectively pulling the blankets off of Daryl in the process of trying to face Clara.

"Yes. I asked him and he wanted to be here."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to talk with you. He also wants to protect you."

Frances watched the young girl's eye widen. "I want to talk to him too; I want to say sorry for crying so loud. I miss Dale still."

"I think Daryl wants to say sorry to you," Frances wrapped her arms around the child and pulled her small body under her section of covers. She tucked her head under her chin and ran a hand quickly up and down her spine to generate some heat. "He should not have yelled at you for crying, it was natural to be sad, and we expect you to grieve for Dale, we will all miss him forever."

"I still miss my mom sometimes. But not my dad. Is that okay?"

Frances didn't know how to respond. Clearly things had not gone well in Clara's life before the world fell apart. It made Frances want to work harder to provide the best she could.

"You lost your mom not too long ago. That's understandable. When did you lose your dad?"

"He went away last year." The small child sniffled as she began to open up.

Daryl began to wake, and quickly turned his frame to the conversation beside him.

"Good morning ladies," he hesitated. "Did you sleep okay?"

Although his question was aimed mostly at Clara, Frances responded first.

"I slept well, having you here helped a lot."

Clara nodded in agreement with Frances' admission.

Daryl sat up and poised himself towards Clara. Her observant eyes met his.

"I'm so sorry Clara. Everything that happened last night was awful, especially my behavior. I should not have yelled at you. Not last night, not ever. There's no excuse."

Clara didn't know how to react. She had never heard an adult male apologize before, except for the one time her father had apologized to the judge. But that was right before he went away.

She shifted in Frances' arms, trying like hell to sit up straight. "It's okay, I'm sorry for being loud."

Daryl sighed. He did not want any part of her innocent mind believing she had done anything wrong. "You were crying, I was even yelling too. I should not have yelled at you or anyone. You need to know what I did was not appropriate behavior. It was a bad reaction. I'm going to work on that from now on, I promise." Daryl scratched behind his ear. He had never spoken so poignantly to a child. He really hoped she fully understood the magnitude and sincerity of his apology.

As if she read his mind, Clara jumped from Frances' arms. She scrambled over the mess of blankets and leaned into Daryl. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"It's okay Daryl, I forgive you." Her words spilt out cracked with emotion. Daryl didn't know what to do and quickly looked to Frances for guidance.

"It's okay Clara," Frances soothed. "Do you want to talk more about last night? I promised I would."

The small girl moved herself to a far corner of the tent, away from the two adults. "I should tell you both something." She was still crying but the words were hushed. Her fingers were in her mouth, nails being bitten to the nub.

"What is it chickie?" Frances reached for her.

"No!" Clara reacted unexpectedly.

Both adults stopped at once. The air hung thick with little motion. Daryl eyed the child with a confused look.

"You're both going to hate me!" Clara cried harder.

Daryl looked between the two. Frances appeared to be in as much distress as Clara. She really did care for the little girl and hated seeing her in such distress.

"How could I ever hate you?" Frances began slowly. "You know you mean the world to me."

"It's my fault!" Clara paused and began again after wiping snot from her nose. "It's mine and Carl's fault Dale died!"

Now it was Frances' moment of confusion. She looked to Daryl for any clue on how to respond.

Seeing that Frances was at a loss Daryl spoke first. "What are you talkin' about girl?" he asked softly. "How is it your fault a walker got Dale?"

Clara told them everything. She and Carl had gotten bored. Clara told them of Daryl's gun, the woods, throwing rocks…even Carl's close brush when the walker finally did twist one of its legs free. Frances made no moves to comfort the child. She was in shock and felt like an awful guardian. Frances looked down into her lap and listened to Clara beg that they not inform Lori and Rick. Clara didn't want Carl to get in trouble.

"Do you hate me?" Clara finally asked.

Daryl looked to Frances. She had started crying close to the beginning of the small girl's story and had steadily continued up until this point. It was agony waiting for her answer.

After wiping her eyes a few times Frances looked up. The weight of the past twenty-four hours was surly crushing her. She felt like such an awful person. First she wanted Randall killed, and then she left Clara to herself while she chatted with Andrea over her selfish crush on Daryl, and now Dale was dead.

Daryl noticed Frances was taking too long with her thoughts and scooted over to the shaken child. "Frances loves you just like the rest of this group; Dale too. This was not your fault, but we need to talk more about staying safe. Think of how upset Frances would be if we lost you or Carl!"

"Really?" Clara asked as she clung to Daryl's strong arm.

"Absolutely." Daryl looked to Frances. "Ain't that right?"

Frances nodded and moved to hold Clara.

"You are my baby and I love you. I am just mad at myself."

The two females hugged as Daryl prepared for the day. There would surely be a service for Dale and then he planned on making a thorough check of the perimeter. This would not happen again.

"You two ready?" Daryl finally asked. The two girls looked up at him as he laced his boots. Clara crawled under a blanket in search of her shoes while Frances admired Daryl. He was lifting a heavy comforter so Clara could crawl around under it in search of her shoes. Frances glued herself to his entire body, arms wrapped around his tight torso and head buried into his collar. Daryl accidentally dropped the comforter which trapped Clara. While the little girl dug around for an exit, Frances took the opportunity to show some affection.

This kiss was much more passionate than either was really used to, but neither shied away. Daryl had even brushed his tongue against her lips, asking permission to make the kiss more intimate. As her warm hands settled on his chest, Daryl grappled for her waist. The heat of the moment burned away with a shriek from under the covers.

"I'm scared now! Please help me put!" Clara's little appendages kicked at the heavy cloth without making much progress. Daryl smiled and winked at Frances as he gathered up Clara within the blanket. He hefted the bundle over his shoulder and glanced at the ground.

"Where did you go Clara?" he jokingly asked.

"I'm right here!" Daryl ducked his head to dodge her kicking feet.

"No you're not, where are you really at?"

Frances suppressed a giggle as Daryl spun around the tent, pretending to look for the child.

"Daryl I'm still in the blankets! You picked me up!" Clara laughed.

"Oh!" Daryl expressed as if he had truly not known where the girl had been. "Why didn't you just say so!" he relented while placing the squirming bundle on top of a bed roll. Frances stepped forward to pull the covers from the girl and Daryl squatted down to the child's level. The blanket disappeared and Clara sat laughing. Her hair was tangled in a mess of blond knots.

"You found me!" She pushed the hair from her face to give Daryl a bright smile.

Daryl paused before answering. "Yeah, I found you." The words were bittersweet. He then felt Frances' hand on his shoulder.

"Let's head out you two."

The three left the tent with smiles and in good spirits. Frances thanked Daryl for making them laugh, it was going to be a long day and they sorely needed a bit of fun to take the edge off of a surely sad day.


	17. Chapter 17

Clara stood between Daryl and Frances as Dale spoke for Dale. The plots were all under a tree on the Greene's property. Clara hoped Daryl would take her to get flowers for Dale. Sophia's were looking pretty dead.

When the service ended Daryl turned to Frances.

"Me and some guys are headed out to scan the property," He glanced again at the freshest grave. "Make sure this don't happen again. Keep an eye out. We're most likely taking some stong guys with us."

"I want to come too." Frances insisted.

Daryl's eyes shrunk as if he didn't understand her statement.

"I want to come too," she repeated more forcefully. "I should pull my weight too and I haven't killed a walker since the night before you found us."

Andrea leaned into their conversation. The woman looked ghastly from heavily crying the entire night and this morning her face looked pale and tired.

"We're coming too. You men can't tell us to stay back, we all need to know how to take on these things and we need to be prepared because it's inevitable that we will be fighting for our lives against one." Frances bit her bottom lip at the negativity in Andrea's voice but remained in her agreement.

"Lori or Carol can watch Clara. It's settled. What weapon should I use?"

Daryl sighed and whistled over to Shane and T-Dog. The two men joined the conversation.

An hour later saw them piling into the pick-up truck. Andrea had originally motioned for Frances to join her in the front but Daryl led her to the back with him and T-Dog. Frances was happy because she didn't want to sit near Shane but she was aggravated that Daryl had led her away like a child. With her back against the wall of the cab she stared at Daryl. He and T-dog sat with weapons in their laps. Frances had borrowed Daryl's buck knife, which sat atop her lap. One hand gently rested on it, holding it down against the bumps of the terrain.

"I can hold my own." She spoke out loud to no one in particular. Both men regarded her, with Daryl only understanding the reasons for her saying it.

He would always be there to make sure Shane didn't hassle her, he did it because he deeply cared about her and just didn't like Shane's behavior, not because he didn't think she could handle him on her own.

When they spotted the first group of walkers Shane pulled over at a safe distance. They hopped out and Daryl took out the first one with a bolt through the eye socket. The rest took them down with hand to hand combat. The group of walkers was put down only after a few minutes.

Frances helped Daryl retrieve his arrows. As her hand wrapped around the arrow from the first kill, she noticed something horrifying. This was one of the men from the old group! Her hand quickly released the arrow and she stumbled backwards with a yelp. Andrea immediately came to her side, weapon raised and ready to strike the brain.

"No!" Frances grabbed the girl's elbow. "I knew this person!"

The men circled around at her admission.

"From your old group?" T-Dog questioned.

"Yes. He was a bad man," She ripped the arrow from his eye socket and hurriedly made her way back to the car. "He deserved his fate."

The rest of the day Frances poured overwhelming emotion and energy into her kills. She wanted to brush at her tears after the last kill but her hands were filthy from pulling bolts and using the knife all day. After kicking the last truly dead walker she turned to Daryl. Her shoulders slumped as he approached her.

Everyone else had jumped back into the car. With his crossbow over his shoulder Daryl approached her and reached into his back pocket.

"Starting to think you use this more than me."

She took his clean handkerchief and wiped at her face with it. When she finally showed him her face she was slightly smiling.

"That's it." He noted her somewhat pleasant expression. "We did a lot today. Gonna sleep well tonight knowing this place is a bit safer."

"I'm going to sleep well because I'm so exhausted!"

* * *

When they returned back to camp Hershel was speaking with Rick. He had decided that due to the approaching winter, the group could stay a bit longer. Everyone was moving into the house.

Hershel wanted to speak with Frances personally, because he knew she had a child. "Rick's family is taking my bedroom. I'm thinking my girls can move into one bedroom and you can have another. There won't be a bed but at least it will have a door."

"Oh no, we can't ask that of you or the people here. We can sleep anywhere."

"Honey, I'm going to be blunt." Hershel moved closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "I want you to have that bedroom because if my girls are together then there won't be any funny business between my Maggie and Glenn or Jimmy and Beth."

Frances felt her face flush a bit at the awkward exchange. "Okay well we'll see if anyone else needs it over me and Clara. Either way someone will definitely use it!"

Her answer seemed to satisfy Hershel enough for him to leave. At that moment Rick and Daryl approached her. "Can we talk Frances?"

She nodded and the three began to converse a bit about the plans for the rest of the day.

"I just want to let you know Carl told me about Clara and him yesterday. They wandered off the property and came across a walker…" Rick began awkwardly.

"We know, she told us this morning." Frances clarified.

"She told both of you?" Rick asked.

"Yes, Daryl slept over last night after the moment with Dale. We were a bit scared."

At that Daryl tensed up. He didn't expect Frances to tell people he had slept over.

"That's good, she trusts you." Rick followed quickly. "She's a well-behaved kid and I have a sound feeling they won't be wandering around anymore."

"What about my gun, Merle's gun?" Daryl specified.

"I didn't know it belonged to your brother. I can have Carl give it back as soon as we get back from dropping off Randall."

Daryl nodded hard at the ground before changing his mind. "No it's fine, boy needs it. He's got parents to protect. He's got to protect himself."

"Thanks Daryl, I'm glad you realize that, now I just need to convince Lori." A that both men scoffed lowly, knowing it was going to be nearly impossible.

"I'm going to get the car for Randall. I'll meet you in ten or fifteen minutes?" Rick asked Daryl.

He fiddled with his crossbow and announced he only needed to 'take a leak'.

"Please tell me you are going to use indoor plumbing?" Frances joked.

"Why? Guy's don't need all that pampering."

"Use the bathroom inside so I can show you where Hershel wants me to set up my stuff."

The two entered the crowded house. Almost every space was filled with bed rolls, sleeping bags and the like. Some supplies would be kept in the RV in case. Cars were also filled with supplies in case of an emergency where they needed to leave quickly.

"This is the bedroom Hershel wants us to take. Maggie already moved her bed into Beth's room."

Daryl walked around the good sized space. "Take it. Your girl needs it and you deserve it. I'll help you move anything into here when I get back."

Frances nodded. "I'm probably going to drag everything in before dark. Rick said you should be back before then, right?"

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Where are you sleeping tonight? Please don't say you're still secluding yourself far away. With so many people in the house we won't even be able to hear you if you call for help."

"No I'll move closer. Probably set up by the fire, nights are getting cooler."

"Why don't you stay in here?"

"I don't know where you expect to put me. Hershel's on the couch, Carol and Andrea have the parlor while the guys share another. I don't even know where Hershel's people are going to be."

Frances paused. She had meant for him to sleep in this room with her and Clara.

Suddenly Rick's voice rang through the house.

"Daryl! Daryl, we need you!"


	18. Chapter 18

T-Dog had informed Rick that the shed was empty. The group made way to the outskirts of the farm to get a look for themselves. Randall was really missing. As everyone questioned the strange and unexpected situation Shane emerged from the woods. His face was covered in blood.

"He snuck up on me, clocked me in the face! He's got my weapon!"

Frances heard Daryl mutter something that sounded like "Bullshit" before he turned to her and told her to go to the house.

"Everyone in the house! This guy is dangerous!" Rick ordered the group.

As Rick arranged some men to comb the woods Frances made her way back to the house. "Be careful!" She called to the four men.

Maggie looked particularly scared on the run back to the farm house so Frances grabbed her hand. "Glenn and Daryl will protect each other. Both men are smart and capable, they will be okay."

It was just what Maggie needed to hear. She held onto Frances hand as they entered the house. Once inside Frances told Cara and Carl to go upstairs and pack small bags. She felt like it would be a good idea incase anything should happen.

She positioned herself at a window with her old knife. Andrea also stayed close and lurked between the rooms.

* * *

Around an hour later Daryl and Glenn arrived back. They informed the group of the deceased and reanimated Randall and the strange fact that the boy suffered no bite marks. Lori asked Daryl to go find Rick and Shane and he moved quickly to fulfill her request. No sooner than when he walked onto the porch did the group notice a hoard of walkers.

Hundreds headed toward the house. Andrea immediately formed a plan with T-Dog to take out as many walkers as possible while the women began hastily packing necessities for an escape. Hershel promised not to leave his land. Each person performed their role as the hoard grew closer.

Frances, Lori, Carol, Beth, Patricia, and the kids were the only people in the house when Lori vocalized that she couldn't find either Carl or Clara.

"What?" Frances' eyes doubled in size and her heart jumped to her throat.

"I can't find them, they aren't in the house!"

Frances ran up the stairs and into the bedroom both children had been left in, sure enough not a trace of the children could be found in the room.

"Where are they?" Frances started to break into hysterics.

The group was scattered among the farm and Frances couldn't find Daryl. Clara and Carl could be anywhere. Suddenly Carol launched a backpack at the woman. "We need to go!"

"Clara is still out there!"

"So is Carl!" Lori added harshly.

"He's probably with his father!" Carol suggested. "We have to go! If he is alive he's going to need his mother!"

"What about Clara?" Frances shrieked. "Who the hell do you think she's with?"

Without hesitation Carol grabbed the woman and led her to the back door. "She's probably with Daryl!"

As the women entered the yard Frances could see the burning barn. It was an amazing sight. From all directions walkers pursued them, some moving at a frighteningly fast pace. After losing Patricia and breaking off from Carol, Frances found herself in a car with Beth, Lori, and T-Dog.

Lori and Frances grasped each other, both hoping their children were in safe hands.

* * *

Dawn rose before the small group met up with Glenn and Maggie. Both mothers were horrified to know neither Maggie nor Glenn had seen anyone else. While devising a new plan on how to regroup, a rumble could be heard down the empty dirt road.

"That sounds like a motorcycle." T-Dog reported.

Sure enough Daryl appeared on his motor cycle. Feminine hands wrapped tightly around his torso. Carol stuck her head out from behind his broad shoulders and Frances looked to see if her tiny child was wedged between them. As both exited the bike Frances turned and sat in the truck. Clara and Carl were still missing. She had been so damn hopeful that Daryl would save her again.

Daryl immediately approached the group and took an inventory. He glanced at Frances, "Is she okay?"

"Carl and Clara are missing." Carol spoke softly while Lori moved to join Frances in the truck.

No one spoke for a few minutes. Beth and Maggie cried for their mother, father and Jimmy while Glenn and T-Dog tried to comfort them. "We should go to where we said we would meet Sophia." Carol whispered to Daryl.

"Did you know the kids were missing?" Daryl questioned Carol.

"They weren't in the house…I figured they would be with Rick."

"You assumed?" Daryl was growing angry. If he had known the children were running around the farm he would have searched for them. Carol's eyes became glossy as Daryl walked away from her. She felt awful that she failed to mention the kids during their crazy escape.

Daryl approached Frances and opened the passenger door. He positioned his body so that she could not run away from the conversation. They held each other's stare for a long time. Daryl could tell she was mad at herself. Her nails dug into the dash board and her bottom lip was being crushed under her upper teeth. She spoke first.

"We just told her this morning the dangers of stalking off. I can't fucking believe it." Frances let her anger boil over.

"Maybe she'll be at the highway with others. We still have Rick, Shane, Hershel, and Andrea to find. I bet more than anything the kids are with any of them.

"I want to ride on the back of your bike, to scan the woods for any signs of the rest of us."

"It's cold out and especially cold on the bike. I'm making Carol ride with Glenn and Maggie."

"Then there's room for me."

Daryl sighed. There was no use fighting with a lady whose child was missing.

"Better hold on, I ain't got a helmet for you." Daryl helped her jump down from the truck.

They had no luck on the way to the highway. Frances' hand twisted into Daryl's vest, trying desperately to draw her anger and heartache out of her chest and head and into her hands.

When they finally spotted Hershel and Rick the caravan pulled over. Immediately Lori ran to Carl and Frances ran to Rick.

"Clara?" She asked softly when she didn't see the small girl.

"She's in the car. I think she's frightened half to death. She keeps asking for you and Daryl.

At the sound of his name Daryl looked up. Frances was running to the only recognizable car and through the window Clara could be seen wide-eyed and crying. Daryl followed far behind, letting the girls have a moment to themselves.

"Come inside please!" Clara begged. "Daryl too!"

Frances climbed in the car and immediately smothered the child in kisses.

"Don't ever leave like that I thought you were gone! Why did you leave the house?" Frances delicately scolded.

"I left to bring Carl back. He left first. He had a gun and was looking for his dad and Shane!"

Daryl introduced himself to the conversation. Frances pulled him into the large back seat and placed Clara on his lap. The small girl buried herself into Daryl's chest and repeatedly asked him to protect her.

"Please stay with us, I'm afraid of Rick!"

Daryl tensed at her request. "What are you talking about girl?"

"Carl was mad that I told you guys about the walker and Dale. So he left to find his dad and Shane. I went after him because it was my fault he got mad and left! I was trying to say I was sorry!"

Daryl looked intently at the child. She was covered in blood from head to toe. Her clothes were stiff and dyed dark burgundy from the gory chaos of their escape.

"I saw Rick kill Shane."

The statement was so powerful it felt like all oxygen had left the vehicle.

"He became a walker, Carl shot him in the head. Then we saw all the walkers. We had to go into the barn and Carl lit it on fire after we let the walkers inside. We got back to the house and everyone was gone except Hershel. Did you leave me on purpose?"

Frances brushed her filthy hair from her face, "No we didn't leave you on purpose. We wouldn't do that to anyone."

This promise drew a smile from Clara. Frances was amazed by it. A simple smile held so much hope. Emotions swirled through her body and without a second thought Frances leaned forward and kissed Daryl. He didn't expect it, and Clara squirmed off his lap and into the middle seat of the car. "I'm so thankful we are safe. Let's go see who else made it." Frances spoke with emotion. Daryl carried Clara and Frances held his crossbow. The group had been taking stock of survivors and victims. They were unable to determine Andrea's situation.

"Did you see her go down?"

"Are you sure?"

Daryl reached for his bike, only a few minutes ago they had told Clara they wouldn't leave anyone behind. He had to make right by his words.

Rick shut down his attempt. As the cars piled up, Frances positioned herself and Clara next to Daryl. She gently ran her fingers over the back of his neck, scratching lightly at his hair line. Her shoulder glanced his arm, he was a bit taller than her.

"You need to ride with Rick and Lori. It's too cold to have you both on the back of the bike."

"I'm still a bit afraid of Rick." Clara mumbled.

Daryl bent down to her level. "I wouldn't put you with anyone I thought wasn't safe. Rick's a good man. Shane used to be a good man but he changed. It's a complicated situation but I promise you Rick is safe."

Frances knew she should show solidarity with Daryl. The women would have to ride with the Grimes'. "When we stop for the night, will you stay by us?"

Daryl answered her question with a kiss. "I'll be wherever you need me. Don't you worry."

After a strong lingering embrace Frances and Clara left Daryl for the car.

* * *

The caravan drove for a few hours before Rick's car finally died out. The car had been running on fumes for a while. Everyone convened around Daryl's bike announcing opinions on how to move forward. Daryl mentioned to Rick the findings about Randall.

Out of nowhere Rick announced "We're all infected."

He started talking again about the incident at the CDC. Glenn and Carol seemed incredible angry with Rick keeping it a secret, but Frances didn't mind. Everyone dies eventually she bitterly reminded herself.

Clara and Carl stayed behind while Frances and Maggie searched for firewood. The men scouted the area and the rest assembled a small fire pit inside what looked to be the remains of a stone house. T-Dog situated himself atop the structure taking first watch.

As night fell people settled into their new surroundings. Rick again threatened the group, telling those who were losing faith in him to have at it on their own. With an open door policy established, Rick concluded that this wasn't a democracy anymore. Frances feared how this would change the dynamic of everyone she had grown to love.

Carol and Daryl were having hushed words over the fire and Daryl looked a bit angry.

Frances tried to ignore the petty hang-ups of their new situation and thought about the big picture. She thought about the ones they had lost.

Jimmy had been so young, Patricia so caring. Shane was surely going to be missed in terms of firearms knowledge and strength. Although he had his faults, Frances tried to think of him before the apocalypse. Perhaps he had truly been misunderstood. Frances glanced to Carol who had moved to sleep near the fire. She would never see her girl again, and now she couldn't even visit her grave. She hoped the burned barn would bring closure for both her and Daryl.

Just then Daryl crouched down beside Frances. "You okay?"

Frances was now thinking of Andrea and Dale. She hoped Andrea was somewhere out there, maybe they would find her again. If not she hoped the woman was finally enjoying the everlasting peace she so rightfully deserved.

Frances avoided answering the question. "When is your watch?"

"Right before daylight, I'm going to hunt at first light. We can eat and then move on. We need to find gas."

"We will survive." Frances stared into the fire. "You need to sleep."

Daryl couldn't argue with her, he was only man. His limits were tested the past few days. Frances patted her lap. "Rest up." Without much of an argument Daryl laid his head in her lap. He lay on his side to watch the fire and the people still awake around it. Glenn seemed to have keen interest in Daryl and Frances' predicament so the hunter shot him a look which clearly indicated that the Asian should mind his own business.

Clara was sitting close to the fire, still awake. The two adults watched her slump with exhaustion from their place against the stone wall.

"Clara," Daryl quietly drawled. "Come back here and get some sleep."

Clara turned and walked soundlessly over to the two. She nestled into Daryl's side and he placed both his vest and arm over her tiny body. He hoped it would generate the warmth and safety he was trying to provide.

Frances rested her head to the cold wall. She looked into the vast sky. The stars were truly beautiful. Without realizing it, her hand had snuck to Daryl's neck. She teased the long locks of greasy dark hair at its base and carefully rubbed noticeable knots in his shoulder. Frances had no idea what tomorrow would bring, she just hoped for a better day. She had never wanted to see a new day rise as much as she did now sitting in the darkness of a tormenting night.


End file.
